Sweet Glow of Mercy
by flashpenguin
Summary: As Doyle's evil actions reverberate thru the BAU with lasting effects, Em and Dave brace for the final climactic showdown as good and evil meet head to head. Third in the "You Won't Get To Heaven Alive Series".
1. Chapter 1

_Here's the third story in the "You Won't Get To Heaven Alive Series". Doyle's actions are going to reverberate through the team in more ways than one as he makes his last ditch effort to bring Emily out of hiding. But our team isn't about to lie down and die when it comes to taking down the bad guys._

_I do want to give a very special shout out to Tamara Champlin who was gracious enough to let me use her song "You Won't Get To Heaven Alive" as a title for this series. You are an amazing woman and an incredibly gifted singer/songwriter. I am blessed to know you._

_I don't own Criminal Minds._

_Song prompt: "Sweet Glow of Mercy" by Gary Chapman_

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Aaron Hotchner stood looking at the mangled wreck that used to be a car. The fire had been put out but the stench of burnt flesh and gasoline still lingered in the air. Glancing around at the members of his team, he tried to gage their thoughts, but he couldn't. How could he when he wasn't sure what he was feeling?

The Fire Chief came over to where Hotch stood. "If it brings you any comfort, she never felt a thing."

No, Hotch thought ironically, the fact that Erin Strauss didn't feel anything as the car blast that shook the Hoover Building took her life didn't bring him an ounce of comfort. In fact, it sickened him to the core of his being.

"What did you find?" Hotch asked.

"It was a crude device…basically an IED," the fire chief explained. "It was hooked up to the ignition." He showed the remaining piece of the device. "Who ever rigged this knew what they were doing."

Morgan took the piece of tattered metal in his hands. "The IRA and militant groups use a signature like this. It's definitely their 'calling card' to let us know they are watching." He handed the metal back to the fire chief.

"You'll get my report by morning, Agent Hotchner," the chief said and turned away.

"Goddamnit!" Morgan bit out. "I knew this was going to happen."

"Morgan…"

"I told you, Hotch, I told you that that bastard was going to do something to hurt us. First Seaver, now Strauss. Who is next? Me? You? JJ?"

Hotch shook his head. He tried to find something to say, but the words wouldn't come. He looked at the wreckage that had once been an expensive Lexus. The fight he had had earlier in the day still rang in his ears.

"_Agent Hotchner, I've been on the phone with Interpol and they said that Agents Prentiss and Rossi still have not shown up to the consulate."_

"_Yes."_

_She tapped her index finger on the oak desk. "I am sure that you had something to do with the deliberate disobeying of a direct order."_

_Hotch squared his shoulders. "Yes, ma'am, I did."_

"_Do I want to hear your reason?"_

"_Ma'am, I firmly believe that Agents Prentiss and Rossi have had their cover compromised. There was word that Doyle showed up in Cannes looking for them."_

"_How did that happen?"_

"_We don't know. There may be a mole at Interpol. We are still looking into it."_

"_Where are they now?"_

"_Somewhere in Southern England. Their car broke down and they had to take refuge in a cottage. The owner had to go out of town and let them stay there while he is gone."_

"_How do you know he isn't the mole?" Strauss asked matter of fact._

"_I had Garcia run a background check on him. He's no one to be suspicious of; he is a widower with three grown children who live in Liverpool and London. He has no political ties."_

"_You need to get them out of there and back to the States!"_

"_We are doing our best. Right now…it doesn't seem safe to move them; especially when Doyle may know where they are," Hotch argued. "The results could be tragic."_

"_I talked with Ambassador Prentiss," Strauss supplied in an off handed way as though she was permitting Hotch a glance into her business. And maybe she was just to be cruel._

_But he knew her tricks, and he wasn't fazed by her revelation. There was something between the two women he couldn't touch - just like there was something between him and Dave. He didn't hold that against Strauss, but in a way he felt sorry for her. Her dislike for him had turned into a hatred for the team and an obsession to ruin him. _

"_What did she have to say?" Hotch asked evenly._

"_Emily hadn't contacted her."_

"_You let her know that Emily is alive?" Hotch sputtered in barely concealed anger._

"_I had to. Her daughter's life is in danger and there is a mad man after her. Ambassador Prentiss has a right to know that Doyle may be after her."_

"_Do you realize what you have done? If Doyle has her on his list, he could use this news against her. This could severely jeopardize Emily's chances of getting out of England safely."_

"_She needed to be aware of the danger of Doyle knowing Emily being alive could pose. You would have done the same thing."_

_Hotch shook his head. "Honestly, I wouldn't have. If Doyle knows that Emily is alive, his focus is going to be on her. Because we don't know if he even knows who Emily's mother is, it would have better for us to keep that news to ourselves."_

"_I disagree."_

"_Ian Doyle is intent on finding his son…no matter what the cost. He thinks that Emily may have told us where Declyn is, and because of that, he's going to do what he has to - even if that means torturing each and every one of us to death. And when he has eliminated the last remaining link to Emily, he's going to torture her until she confesses what she knows."_

_Strauss swallowed hard as she digested Hotch's words. _

"_Agent Prentiss will never be in that predicament."_

"_She wasn't…until Dave went to Italy. But that was an honest mistake. We didn't have the intelligence on Doyle and his whereabouts until he decided to strike. He is trying to draw her out into the open."_

"_Are you saying that Ashley Seaver was a method to his madness?" Strauss asked incredulously._

_Hotch shrugged. "She was no longer with the team and was not a full fledged profiler. She wouldn't have been privy to Emily's past the way we had. Emily was shutting down by that point and wouldn't let any of us get close enough…so Ashley knowing enough to put her life in jeopardy…" Hotch leveled a hard look at the woman across from where he stood. "I don't see that happening."_

"_But it's a possibility?"_

"_Doyle needed to throw us off and get Emily to blow her cover."_

"_But it didn't work," Strauss finished._

"_No it didn't. So, he's going to keep going until he brings her out."_

"_You said the Ambassador is not on his list."_

"_No, what I said was that we don't know what information he has in regard to Emily. But it's highly likely, at this point, he may have found out who her mother is. He can't go after the obvious, so he's going to go after the most unlikely: Seaver and Ambassador Prentiss."_

_The silence hung like a heavy weight in the air._

"_You need to warn her that she needs to have her guard up," Hotch cautioned._

"_She's supposed to be traveling from a meeting via automobile in the morning. I will call her before I leave."_

_Hotch kept his face blank. "Thank you."_

"_Have you heard anything else on Agent Seaver?"_

"_She's still critical. It appears her brain stem was injured. The doctors are going to do what they can to reduce the swelling, but they don't have many options."_

"_Keep me updated."_

"_Yes, ma'am." Hotch turned to leave._

"_Agent Hotchner," Strauss called out. Hotch turned around to give a blank look at the woman who had put his team's lives in jeopardy._

"_Yes?"_

"_What I do…this job…isn't a deliberate attempt to piss you off. There are rules and guidelines that must be followed or else the results could be detrimental to everyone. My job is to protect my agents." She waited for a reply that didn't come. "I do care."_

"_I want to believe you, but as you once told me: Actions speak louder than words."_

And that was the last thing he had said to her before he left her office. He had never been so angry at someone who _wasn't_ an UNSUB. He had hoped to get alone somewhere to think about what had transpired and just forget.

But that was never going to happen.

"You knew this was going to happen," Morgan repeated.

Hotch's eyes never moved from the scene. "We need to work on getting Emily and Dave back."

Morgan went to speak but stopped. He wanted to shout and call Hotch out on the carpet, but something stopped him. Maybe it was that look of defeat and loss like he had failed…again.

"Answer me this," Morgan started.

"Go ahead."

"Would this," Morgan nodded toward the wreckage, "have happened if Emily hadn't faked her death?"

Hotch blinked back the sudden rush of tears that filled his eyes. His lips twitched.

"Yes," he croaked out.

"Then we need to get this bastard."

Hotch nodded in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

_Ian Doyle has kidnapped Ambassador Elizabeth Prentiss and murdered Erin Strauss in cold blood. And unbelievable as it may sound, his reign of terror has only begun._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, cold cinder block walls, a concrete floor, and a chair in the middle of the room that smelled of urine, vomit, and fear. It could have been a scene out of a cheesy forties movie or even a thrilling spy plot for a Tom Clancy novel…except there were no rats.

But the scene was real and the two players were all too aware of how it might all end for them both.

That didn't stop Elizabeth Prentiss from glaring at the man who had abducted her and shot her body guard. Defiantly, she briefly struggled against the rope binding her to the hard wooden chair.

"You do realize who I am and that there will be people looking for me?" she bit out in regal tone. He may have slapped her silly, but her pride and training would never let him win.

"I'm not afraid," Doyle replied tonelessly from his perch on the side of the table.

"I'm an ambassador with many powerful and influential friends."

Doyle watched her with disinterest.

"And they will be looking for me," she continued. Sweat pooled between her breasts and under her arms. But she maintained her composure.

"So? Am I supposed to be afraid?" Doyle asked. Standing up, he pulled the long knife from his back jeans pocket. Flipping it open, he made sure Elizabeth got a good look before he used it to clean his finger nails.

"I know about your past, and everything you've been involved in. You are still the most wanted man in Europe by Interpol standards."

"They don't know where I'm at." Carefully he used the blade to shape his nails. The Ambassador was a talker and though nothing she was saying impressed him, he knew she had information about Emily. He just had to bide his time.

Elizabeth raised her chin in defiance. "You think you're so smart and cunning. You think no one knows where you are and they will never find you. But you're wrong. The FBI knows all about your hide outs and your fake names."

Doyle stopped cold. His eyes bore deep into Elizabeth's as he tried to intimidate her. But she had met and encountered too many despicable pieces of slime in her lifetime and career to be intimidated by a second class terrorist. Ian Doyle was bad. He was vile. But on a scale of one to ten, when compared to Arafat or Quadaffi, Ian Doyle was the bottom rung on a tall ladder.

When taking his thirst for vengeance and ability to murder on the sly into account, he was nothing compared to Chauchescu. And just like that dictator/murderer, there would be justice one day. She had seen the mighty evil fall too many times over the years to not doubt that karma had his number.

But as her eyes continued to hold his, she noticed that there was something in Doyle's Irish blue orbs that she had never seen in the others': heartbreak and deep loss. Still, it wouldn't sway her; she would stand her ground against him until she was rescued or she took her last breath.

"What did you say?" Doyle asked in a deadly tone that left no way to misinterpret.

"They know everything about you. You can't run and you have no place to hide. When they find you, your days of terrorizing will be over. Even if you kill me, my daughter and Erin Strauss will hunt you down to the far corners of the earth," Elizabeth stated, but her voice quavered slightly. "They will get justice."

Doyle stepped over and leaned down to bring his face close so she could hear his low, threatening whisper. "Tell me, Elizabeth, are you afraid of dying? Because I'm not afraid of dying," he commented. "Your daughter has managed to kill me a hundred times over without ever pulling the trigger. I survived a Korean prison that knew more hell than the devil himself could invent."

Slowly he dragged the knife blade lightly across Elizabeth's cheek. He watched her shudder, then close her eyes. He had won.

"Maybe I should tell you that out of respect for what Emily and I once shared, I was going to let her watch me slowly torture you to death. I wanted her to listen to the mighty Elizabeth Prentiss cry for mercy. I wonder, would you beg? Or would you defy me to the bitter end?" He slid the knife blade lower to her neck, down to the area between her breasts.

"I've changed my mind," Doyle continued, his hot breath fanning Elizabeth's face. "I've decided that you should watch me torture your flesh and blood so you can experience the hell I went thru when she took my son from me. It's only fair, don't you think?"

Standing up, he took in the ashen faced woman with satisfaction. He folded the knife and placed it back in his pocket.

"As for Erin Strauss…" He rolled his eyes upward and let out a breath. Then he smiled. "You can tell her all about me and how she was so right when you meet her in hell."

Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. "What? What do you mean?" she sputtered.

"I made sure your friend went ahead of you to prepare a space beside her in hell."

Turning on his heel, Doyle walked out of the room.

"Keep an eye on her," he ordered the guard by the door. "Give me a report every hour."

"Yes sir."

Doyle paused. "On second thought…bring her up to my room around seven. I want to find out where Emily inherited that sweet piece of ass from."

The guard nodded.

Meanwhile, alone in the cold, dimly lit room, Elizabeth Prentiss wept.

Then she prayed.


	3. Chapter 3

_The team comes to grips with the aftermath of losing Strauss._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

JJ knocked on the door to Hotch's office.

"Are you still awake?" she asked gently.

Hotch looked up from the papers that littered his desk. He was so tired and weary, and it showed on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair stood on end. His tie was undone and his usually crisp, white dress shirt was rumpled and covered with dirt.

"What do you need, Jen?" he asked, his throat raw from emotion and gasoline fumes.

JJ stepped in and closed the door. It was late at night and the bullpen had finally calmed down from the night's earlier events. It had taken everything in her not to lose it as she addressed the news media. They had pressured her and probed for answers, but she had done her best to maintain her cool. They had tried to get information on the victim, but she had remained mum. There was no benefit to releasing that information before Erin Strauss's family could be contacted.

Once she got the area cleared of media, she had done what she could to help out in the Hoover Building. She hadn't even thought about it - it was just something she was comfortable doing. She had calmed down Morgan and held Garcia. But the person she really needed to be with had closed himself off in his office.

Walking over to the large oak desk, JJ sat on the corner and handed the disheveled BAU Chief a hot cup of coffee.

"Here," she said, "you might as well have something to drink."

"Thanks." Hotch took the cup and sipped. The brew was hot enough to burn his tongue and strong enough to boost his energy…if just a little. "Where is the rest of the team?"

"Morgan is with Pen. She's determined to do everything to bring Doyle down. I think this is the one time she can legally use her hacking skills."

"What is she doing?" Hotch set the cup down.

JJ chuckled lightly. "I didn't hang around to find out."

"Have you called Ambassador Prentiss?"

JJ shook her head. "I haven't had a chance. What with everything that happened, I figured I could wait a little while longer."

"I can't see her taking this well." Hotch sighed and ran a hand over his eyes.

"They were close friends." JJ took in the man she admired on so many levels she stopped counting. "What's bothering you?"

"This…everything…Strauss…Jack…" Hotch tried to gather his thoughts. "I keep thinking we should have found another way of protecting Emily other than faking her death."

"We didn't have a choice. The dossier he had on us made it virtually impossible to choose another route."

"I know. What if we made it worse?"

"Like what happened with Foyet?" JJ asked softly. Hotch looked up, then down. "You did the best you could with the options you had available. There was no other option. You couldn't negotiate with either person; they wanted blood."

"But I handed Strauss over to Doyle the same way I handed Haley to Foyet."

"No you didn't. That was their thirst for revenge striking out. Negotiating would have made things worse."

Hotch pushed back from the desk and stood up. Nervously he paced the room. JJ watched quietly.

"I argued with her before she was killed," Hotch announced. "She told me she had called Ambassador Prentiss and told her about Emily being alive and Doyle probably knowing. I…said some things that I wish I had rephrased differently."

"You couldn't have known that this was going to happen."

Hotch flashed her an angry look. "I shouldn't have put anything past Doyle. I was so angry that she was so adamant about getting Emily and Dave home, but she could have jeopardized their lives."

"She was concerned for the Ambassador."

Hotch let her words sink in. "There is a mole in the FBI."

JJ's breath caught in her chest. "Who?"

Hotch shook his head. "I don't know. I have someone on it."

"Garcia?"

"No. It's someone not connected to this building. I couldn't risk it. Everyone knows everyone here and there are no secrets. Let's put it this way: being a former prosecutor has its benefits."

"You'll find who did this." Silence. "Have you talked to Jack?"

"I have. Have you talked to Henry?"

"He is enjoying himself at Disney World."

"How did Will handle the news?"

JJ shrugged indifferently. "About like I expected. He accused me of putting the team first. I didn't know how to tell him what I know without him taking Henry to Louisiana and going underground."

"I know how you feel."

Hotch walked over to the window and looked out into the dark night.

"What if he grows up to hate me?"

"Who? Jack?"

"I've always been his hero and his partner, but what if this scars him? How can I ever make it up to him? I failed Haley and Strauss…now I'm failing Dave and Emily…and this has to impact Jack in some way."

JJ got up and walked over to where Hotch stood. "It's not like that. When he's old enough to ask the questions, you will tell him the truth."

"What if he doesn't believe me?"

"What you tell him now, will affect what you tell him later. But it will make sense."

"I feel like I'm going to lose him and Foyet is going to finally win."

JJ took in the lost look and fought the urge to hold Hotch.

"Foyet is not going to win and we will catch Doyle. And we are going to catch the mole who did this to Strauss. _We _are going to win because we are the good guys. And that is what good guys do."

Without warning, Hotch gathered her in his arms and buried his face in her shoulder as sobs shook his body. Tenderly, she held him.  
>******<p>

"I can't believe she's gone," Garcia wept. "I hated her and what she's done to Hotch in the past, but never once have I wished her dead."

"Not once?" Morgan asked quietly.

"I once drew up the paperwork to get her transferred to California…but that's as far as I went." Garcia wept into the tissue. "Is it true that she didn't feel anything?"

"I don't know," Morgan admitted.

"You're the bomb expert; did she feel anything?"

Morgan thought it over. "Maybe there was an instant of pain, but it happened so fast that her brain never had a chance to register it. It was over before it began."

"What is going to happen to her family?"

"I don't know, Baby Girl."

"Do you think Doyle is after them?"

"I don't know. I suspect they may be put into protective custody."

"Have you told your family?"

"They are being moved again. When they are settled, they'll call me."

Pen tried to hold back the tears. "I'm going to find him, and when I do, I'm going to bring him down. He thinks he's bad and everyone is afraid of him? Well, he's messed with the wrong person! I may not have like Strauss…I may have even hated her, but she was family." Pen paused. "Albeit the family that you hide in the basement and only bring out on the holidays…but she…she knew her stuff….unless it had something to do with the BAU."

"A eulogy Penelope Garcia style," Morgan quipped.

"Doyle is a dead man."

"I have no doubts about that."

"Do you think he's done?"

Morgan considered her question. He knew the answer. He had seen the answer. He had lived the answer.

"Honestly? No. He's only just begun with his revenge."

"I was afraid of that," Pen choked. Weeping softly, she buried her face in the tear drenched handkerchief. Morgan knelt down beside her.

"Awww Pen…come here," he offered and held his arms open.

Throwing herself into Morgan's comforting embrace, she tried to latch on to his strength. She needed to if she was going to succeed in her mission.

"Don't let me go," she whispered in his ear.

Folding his arms around her, Morgan held her as tight as he could.

"Never, Pen. Never."


	4. Chapter 4

_Doyle has kidnapped Elizabeth Prentiss to help along his dastardly, evil plan. And the team is going to find out how far he's gone. _

_*****WARNING WARNING*** An inference to rape is made in the first part of the chapter. If this makes you uncomfortable, please scroll down to Garcia's part at the end.***WARNING WARNING*****_

_**This chapter is rated "M" for rape inference.**_

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Ian Doyle stood up. Keeping his back to the woman lying on the bed, he yanked on his jeans. Throwing on a t-shirt, , he ran a hand through his hair.

"You were pretty good," he remarked. "Better than I expected, but I still wonder where Emily could have inherited that ability to have a multiple orgasm from."

Elizabeth watched him with an expressionless look in her eyes as she kept the sheet tight around her body.

"She used to scream out as she came. Three…four times a night she used to rock my world. You didn't even whimper." Doyle sat down on the mattress. "I thought for sure that one move would have gotten some reaction from you."

He leaned over and brushed a lock of hair from her face.

"You do realize that now that I've used you to exorcise Emily's ghost, I should just kill you?" he asked. "But I won't. Your daughter is out there somewhere and you are what's going to bring her out into the open. You are going to help me kill her."

Elizabeth's lower lip trembled from anger and fear. "You won't get away with this. Someone is looking for me," she stated.

"They won't even know where to begin," Doyle chastised with a shake of his head. "And the FBI has no authority in England. Besides, they won't leave their bunker for fear that another car might send them to be with their hated BAU Director. Anyway, I have an eye on their every move."

"You have a mole in the FBI?" Elizabeth asked.

Doyle gave her a condescending look. "Oh, the negativity by that one word. I wouldn't call it my source a 'mole'; he just hates the team as much as I do."

"Who is he?"

"No one you would know. But his hatred for Aaron Hotchner matches mine for Emily." Doyle stood up. "Are you hungry?"

"No thank you."

"Oh come on, Elizabeth; it's been nearly two days…and after that work out we had, you have to be starving." Doyle smiled sardonically. "You're afraid I'm going to poison it. You should know me better than that. I'll send something up."

Elizabeth hesitated.

Doyle walked to the door and turned around. "You need to keep up your energy. I'm going to find out what made Emily who she is."

Elizabeth waited until the door was closed and the lock was turned before she rushed from the bed into the adjoining bathroom. Turning on the tap as far as it would go, she felt the steam rush up.

Dropping the sheet to the tiled floor, she stepped into the tub. As the scalding hot water hit her skin, she suppressed the urge to scream in pain. Bracing herself, she let the water run over her skin and decontaminate her body.

With shaking hands, she lathered the soap and scrubbed herself. Then she repeated. She kept repeating until she knew for sure the first layer of skin was gone.

As clean as she could be, she turned off the tap. Then she leaned her head against the cool tiles and wept.  
>*****<p>

Garcia's fingers flew over the keyboard. She had one mission in life: hunt down and eliminate Ian Doyle.

Glancing at the clock, she paused as she read the time. It was already morning…well, afternoon. The day had passed by without her noticing. Morgan had tried to coax her out of her lair and down to the cafeteria, but she had begged him off. She had more important things to do than eat.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

"Pen?" JJ called out.

"Come in Jayje."

JJ's heels made a soft clicking sound on the tile as she approached. "Morgan said you were in here working. You need to be sleeping."

"I can't sleep, Jayje; I have to catch him."

JJ walked over and sat down on the desk top. In her hands was a brown bag and a large Styrofoam cup.

"I know, honey, but you have to get some sleep. We're worried about you."

"I have to get him," Garcia replied, her eyes never moving from the screen. Information flashed quickly, only to be replaced by something else.

JJ looked at her best friend tenderly. "You can still get rest. Ian Doyle will still be there when you wake up." She handed over the items. "Morgan said you haven't eaten. Take a minute and recharge."

Pausing, Garcia took the bag. Opening it, the aroma hit her. "A Reuben?" she whispered and lifted the aluminum wrapped sandwich. "Oh, Jayje, I love you." Quickly she devoured the meal.

"Feel better?" JJ asked.

Garcia nodded. "A little."

JJ grasped her best friend's hand lovingly. "Come on, you need some rest."

Garcia nodded. "Okay." She stood up. Maybe she could get a couple of hours to recharge. What was the worst Doyle could do in that time?

As the two women walked to the door, a beeping noise sounded. Garcia hurried back to the computers. Furiously her fingers flew as she typed in codes. With each passing second, her brow furrowed more as she followed the trail she was being led down.

JJ came over to watch. "What is happening?" she whispered. Garcia didn't reply; her intent was recovering the file that was sent.

"What's wrong?" JJ repeated as the silence stretched.

At that exact moment, a picture flashed up on the screen.

"That." Garcia pointed to the monitor.

Staring, JJ tried to make out the image. Slowly realization dawned on her. "Is that…?" she whispered.

Garcia bit her lip. "Yes."

"I have to tell Hotch."  
>*****<p>

Sitting at his desk, Hotch was busy reading papers when a knock interrupted him.

"Come in," he offered. In a rush, JJ entered the room. Usually, cool and collect, the blonde was obviously upset, and he surmised it had something to do with the paper in her hand. "What's wrong?" he asked.

JJ thrust the paper toward Hotch. "You need to see this."

Hotch scanned the paper a couple of times. "Is this true?" he asked.

JJ nodded. "Doyle has Ambassador Prentiss."


	5. Chapter 5

_Dave and Em's bridge to compromise and understanding may be jeopardized with sudden and devastating news from home._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

The mood was light as the two occupants at the table relished in the quiet glow of post coital bliss. It had taken everything for them to finally move out of the bed and down stairs. The mood was quiet as they continued to size up the situation and the path they had chosen.

"When are we heading back to London?" Dave asked as he forked a bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"As soon as I can get hold of Hotch, I am going to ask him if we can move." Em sipped her coffee carefully.

"Are you coming to the States with me?" Dave buttered the toasted muffin and took a bite.

Em sighed. "We've been over this before; I have to stay."

"Then I'm staying, too." Dave laid his muffin down on the plate. He covered Em's hand with his. "We're a team, and we are going to do this as a team. No matter what happens."

Em shook her head regretfully. "You don't get it. This is my war."

"Why do I feel as though I am beating the dead horse?" Dave asked in a bewildered tone. "I thought we had discussed this: I'm staying…or you're coming back."

"Dave…" She tried to meet his eyes, but couldn't.

"After we confront Doyle and get rid of his sorry ass," he stated as an afterthought.

Em pushed away from the table. Grabbing her plate, she walked over to the kitchen and threw it in the sink.

"What's wrong?" he asked in bewilderment.

"You think that what we did is the answer for everything."

Dave considered her words before replying. "What we '_did_'?" he mocked.

Em gripped the edge of the sink. "You know what I mean."

"No, Em, I don't know. Enlighten me. What did we do?"

Taking a deep breath, Em looked out at the grey, foggy morning. The last two nights had been heaven but waking up in Dave's arms that morning had only hit home that reality was still going on beyond the bedroom.

"Us making love," she whispered.

Dave cocked his head. "What did you say?"

"Us making love," she repeated louder.

"So you admit it."

"I can't deny that it happened."

"I thought maybe you were going to compartmentalize it and stick away in some box in the back of your mind."

Em turned around. "That is what you think of me?"

Dave shrugged. "I don't know what to think. I thought I had finally torn down that last wall, but you've been busy stacking the bricks back up." Dave stood up and grabbed his plate. Dumping the contents in the trash, he rinsed the dish off and placed it in the sink.

"I told you that we are a team. Wherever you go, I'm going to be there. I am your shadow."

"Dave, you don't have to do this because we redefined our relationship and there is no going back."

"No, Emily, you are the one redefining our relationship. I have been straight up with you always." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Okay, maybe I hoped you would get the hint that if I was willing to take that giant leap, you would take it to."

"I can't risk your life for mine."

"Would you have felt the same if he had killed me in DC instead of here?"

"You know what I mean."

"No, Em, I don't. Tell me what is going on in your head. Because I can't begin to understand how we came to an agreement in bed and now we're at odds again." He waited for a response that didn't come.

"It's not about you anymore, Em; it's about us and the team. Their lives are in jeopardy. But you know what? I'm tired of arguing with you. I'm tired of banging my head against the wall. I thought what we shared was special enough to make you realize that it's not a crime to ask for help."

"You're a fine one to talk, Dave. You've shut people down and out on numerous occasions."

Dave considered her words. "True, but I never held someone's life in my hands."

Em went to reply but was interrupted by the phone ringing. Stunned, they looked at one another. Neither person moved. The phone continued to ring.

"Do you want to answer it?" Em asked.

They had been four days alone in a cottage and not once had the phone rung. Now the sound pierced the air with a warning that whoever was on the other end did not have good news.

Moving swiftly, Dave grabbed the receiver. "Hello?" he greeted gruffly. He waited. "Hotch? What's wrong?"

Em felt the fear creep into her bones. Hotch had made a rule that he would never contact her…unless it was a dire emergency. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"What?…When?…Are you sure?…How is she?"

Em watched the emotions rush across his face.

"You're breaking up! What did you say? When? Are you sure? What do you want us to do? I don't know where we are," Dave spoke louder.

In an instant, Em was beside him. "What's wrong?" she whispered.

Dave held up his hand. "We're on our way to London…I understand…We'll call you when we get there." He hung up the phone.

"Dave, what's wrong?" Em asked.

"Erin is dead." he stated hoarsely.

"What?" she asked stupidly. "How?"

"It was an IED attached to her ignition."

Em went to speak, but couldn't find the words.

"Hotch wants us to stay here," Dave continued in a flat tone. "I guess Garcia is intent on locating Doyle no matter what law she has to break." Dave walked away. His heavy footsteps on the stairs warned Em to stay away.

Speechless, Em hurried after him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Dave reacts to Hotch's news as Em braces for the backlash and the realization that an "Army of One" is a theory that only looks good on paper._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Grabbing his go bag, Dave opened it and started shoving his clothes and small amount of personal items inside.

"Where are you going?" Em asked quietly from the doorway.

"I'm packing to get the hell out of here." Dave checked his various passports. Settling on one, he shoved it in the pocket inside his jacket. Angrily, he zipped the bag.

"We were told to stay here."

"I don't give a fuck what we were told; I am going to London and then I'm going to find that son of a bitch."

"You can't take on Ian Doyle by yourself," Em argued.

"The hell I can't!" Dave growled. "I grew up in a neighbourhood controlled by the Gambino Family; I am not afraid of a punk ass Irishman named Ian Doyle."

"Listen to me Dave, he has people in Interpol in his pocket."

"Well, I have Penelope Garcia in mine!" Dave countered. "I'm going to find him, and when I do, I'm going to kill him." His tone was deadly…as was the look in his eyes.

Em reached out and touched him. "Dave, listen, you can't do this."

"Why?" he challenged.

"Because revenge isn't who you are."

"I think the rules have been redefined."

"Dave…"

"Don't fucking 'Dave' me! You wanted to get Doyle on your own without my help, but now that I want to get him, you change your mind. Why? What does he mean to you, Em?"

"Nothing! I don't think you're thinking rationally."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black. Strauss is dead. She was murdered by the man who wants to kill you and you're telling me not to go after him." Dave sat down on the edge of the bed and began yanking on his socks and boots.

"I'm sorry," Em replied softly.

The silence stretched out painfully.

"She wasn't always such a bitch," Dave commented. "When we first met, she was nice…a little eager to please. She was one of the first women agents and she wanted to break that glass ceiling and make something of herself. I saw her as another conquest."

Em listened as Dave continued reminiscing; his tone was wistful.

"I was a few years ahead of her in the ranks but I remember when she came in as a cadet from the academy. She didn't apprentice under me, but I knew the guy who trained her. She was so eager to learn… I don't remember exactly how we ended up dating…maybe it was my reputation that intrigued her, or maybe it was that she hadn't been touched."

Outside the rain fell heavily as Dave confessed his sins.

"It took a little coaxing and a few dates, but eventually she fell willingly into my bed. I thought about using her but I found myself attracted to her on some weird level. What she and I had…I was too stupid and horny to recognize that maybe it could have been serious…if I wasn't so busy trying to nail every female in Quantico."

Dave's voice choked up with unshed tears as the memory of Erin Strauss flashed through his head.

"She wanted a family and marriage. She was even willing to give up her career to stay at home…as long as I was the one who came home to her every night." Dave shook his head. "I liked sex without strings. I had already been married and I wasn't eager to go down that road again. Plus…my dad died when I was just becoming a man and I think that scared me about what kind of parent I could be. Add in that I was an FBI agent with a bulls-eye on my back…well, that didn't make me eager to make some woman a widow."

"What happened?" Em asked softly.

"She asked me to marry her. She surprised me with dinner and wine…and a proposal. She said she couldn't wait forever for me to make up my mind."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. We made love that night and while she was asleep, I slipped out. She came into work the next day and confronted me. I told her that what we had was good, but it wasn't enough to be 'serious'. She called me every name in the book and then some. I told her that she was overreacting. She vowed that if she was ever in a position to make my life hell, she would. And it was during that time the higher ups got wind of my affairs and the fraternization policy was enacted."

Em digested his words.

Dave pressed his fist to his lips as he struggled to find the right words.

"She went on to marry Charles and have her kids, house, and career. And I had two more marriages and divorces. I think she showed me."

Em sat down beside him.

"Did you love her?" she asked and covered his hand with hers.

"Yes." What he had once denied now fell easily from his lips. "I can't say that there was anything left between us after twenty five years, but I think deep down inside we still respected one another."

"You would have had to, to keep working with one another."

"There was something else Em; something else you need to know; Doyle didn't stop at Erin…" Dave trailed off as he tried to brace himself for what was to come next.

Em watched the mix of emotions run across Dave's face. "What?" Her heart raced furiously; she knew what was coming, but she had to hear it out loud.

"The Ambassador is missing."

"The Ambassador?" Em asked stupidly. "My mother?"

"Em…"

"My mother is missing? When? What…what do you mean?"

Dave shook his head. "The line was bad; Hotch didn't go into it. She never showed up to the embassy. I think Hotch said he'd call later."

Em blinked the sudden rush of tears back. "Doyle has her."

"Em, you don't know that."

She shook her head. "He does. I can feel it. He wants to break me."

Dave looked at her intently. "I'm not going to let that happen. We are going to find her, and then we're going to eliminate Ian Doyle once and for all."

"Dave…" Em protested as the pressure in her chest grew. She couldn't breathe and she couldn't think; everything was spinning out of control.

"Let me in," Dave commanded.

"I can't."

"This is no longer your fight, Em; this is all of our fight. Hotch can't get here, and Doyle wants to kill us. We have the element of surprise on our side with him not knowing where we are. And we still have Garcia."

"You could die."

"Not without a fight, but I'm sure as hell not going to let that jack off tell me how to live my life, and I'm sure as hell not going to spend the rest of my life running from him. I don't run from evil, Em."

The seconds passed by slowly as his words sank in.

"If you're sure," Em whispered. "If you're in, you're in. You can't turn back."

"I. Don't. Run. From. Evil," Dave stated in a precise tone.

"Okay." Em nodded reluctantly. When it had been her, she was confident and sure she could get Doyle on her own, but now the game had changed and it wasn't just about her anymore. Too many lives hung in the balance. She had committed so many sins it was difficult to sort and list them all, and now one person was dead because of her…and the one she denied all her life could be next. And another wanted to head into the jaws of death…the consequences be damned.

"Okay," she repeated.

Dave wrapped his arms around Em and held her close. "We'll get him."

"What if he kills us in the process?" she whispered. She tried to hold on to him and absorb some of his strength.

Dave rested his chin on Em's head.

"Then we make sure we take him with us."

Em nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

_Will has a heart to heart with Jessica._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Jessica leaned back against the bench and watched Jack playing with Henry. Two days after arriving at the "Happiest Place on Earth" and she was already planning an escape. She wasn't sure if she could tunnel a way out of the park, but if she heard "It's A Small World After All" one more time, she was going to try. The spoon she took from room service could very well do the job!

She sighed and tried to think positive. It wasn't Jack's fault that her nerves were on edge; that credit went to Aaron Hotchner. That son of a bitch had the most unique way of destroying everything and everyone he touched. And she knew better than anyone the curse that followed that man like a shadow.

_Poor Haley._ Her heart still wept for the sister she lost. Every morning when she sat at her dressing table and got ready for the day, she looked at the picture framed and hanging on the wall. Every night she went to bed, that same picture stared back at her. She looked at the beautiful brown eyes that shined with love and laughter…and hidden sadness.

Haley had almost escaped Aaron Hotchner. Almost. Instead she now lay in a cold grave in Quantico. _It should have been you, you son of a bitch, _Jessica's brain screamed. Unconsciously, her hands contracted into fists. _If anything happens to Jack, so help me God, you won't live to see a terrorist get you!_ She vowed.

"Here you go, Chere," Will greeted to break into her thoughts. Looking up, she saw the large cup he handed her.

"Thanks," she replied and took it. Out of habit, she sipped from the straw. It was lemon-lime - her favourite.

"I didn't know what you wanted," Will apologized. "But I figured since you have been out here for a couple of hours, you might be thirsty." He sat down beside her. "I don't like colas," he explained.

"Neither do I." Jessica glanced out of the corner of her eye at the man she was stuck with for the next while…or at least until the bad guy was caught or Aaron Hotchner and his team were killed. She was laying money on the latter.

"The boys seem to be enjoying themselves," Will observed.

Jessica didn't take her eyes off the children running around the playground. "Only because they're young and don't know what is going on. Though, I'm not so sure how much longer Jack is going to fall for Aaron's bullshit," she muttered and sipped. Will raised his eyebrow at her. "What?"

"That's rather harsh," he commented. His face concentrated on her expressions. He might not be an expert profiler, but he was a detective - basically different pockets in the same coat.

"You mean to tell me that you don't blame Aaron for doing this to us? To them?" she asked and gestured toward the boys. "He got us into this."

"I know you hate him," Will drawled, "and you can never forgive him for what happened to Haley, but that is not going to change what is happening."

"Erin Strauss was murdered!" Jessica hissed.

"She was," Will nodded. He weighed his next words carefully. "What if the bomb had been in Aaron's car?"

Jessica felt the words form. It was on the tip of her tongue to state that she would be happy and dancing for joy to finally have her beloved nephew out from the clutches of Aaron Hotchner. Then she could raise him the way Haley would have wanted without the influence of the FBI.

But as she went to say what was in her mind, her heart ached painfully as memories of Aaron and Haley's wedding day flashed in her mind. It had been Aaron who had cried that day, not Haley. Then the image of Haley giving birth to Jack while Aaron coached her and held her. And then the memory of the shattered man she had met the night before the funeral.

She had found him knelt beside the casket, his head bowed in prayer. She had stood in the doorway and listened as his sobs filled the room. She heard him beg for forgiveness…yet none came. Her heart had broken. Unable to bear another moment, she turned and left.

Aaron had loved Haley…probably more than she had him. He had done everything to protect her and in the end he had failed.

"He killed my sister," Jessica whispered. Blinking quickly, she tried to hold the tears at bay.

"I don't like to speak ill of the dead - it is bad gris-gris," Will replied, "but from what I hear, Haley had a play in what happened that day. She chose to believe Foyet instead of calling WITSEC to verify Aaron's murder. She also made unauthorized phone calls to you and her mother."

"How dare you!" Jessica choked.

"Aaron didn't ask her to leave WITSEC; she chose to do so and ultimately put her life and that little boy's life in danger. I won't deny that Aaron Hotchner is a son of a bitch and I don't agree with a lot of what he does. He and that FBI gang of his broke me and JJ up with their lies and deception. But Jack is everything to him."

Jessica's lower lip trembled. She went to speak but Will cut her off.

"If you don't believe me, consider this: he killed a man with his bare hands to prevent him from finding Jack."

The silence stretched between them as the laughter of children and musical jingles filled the air.

Will watched Jack protect Henry from the rush of children. _Like father, like son._

"There is a mad man living on revenge," Will's voice was low as if he feared anyone overhearing them. "I looked him up on line when Jennifer refused to tell me anything other than his name and how the team was in danger.

"He's bad. He has links to terrorists in Europe and maybe even a couple of underground organizations here. You saw what he did to Erin; he won't stop there. He will kill all of us, and if you think that Aaron won't sacrifice his life for those boys…then as much as you may hate him…you don't know him very well," Will finished.

Standing up, he threw his cup in the refuse can. Turning to the group of kids, he called for Henry. "Come on."

"Aww, Dad! I wanna play!"

"We'll go get ice cream and ears for your maman."

Dropping the ball, Henry ran over. Launching himself into Will's arms, he hugged tightly.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, mon fils." Holding Henry close, he turned toward Jessica. "This is all that matters when it comes down to the end game. Ask yourself what you would do in his place."

Swiftly, Will walked away to leave Jessica alone with her thoughts.

"Aunt Jessica!" Jack called out.

Wiping a tear, she waved back. In an instant, Jack was beside her.

"Where did Henry go?" he asked.

"Will took him to buy something for Ms. Jareau."

"Can we go shopping, too?" Jack asked.

Looking at the boy who had her beloved sister's eyes, Jessica suddenly grabbed him close and held him tight.

"I can't breathe!" Jack protested. "Aunt Jessica…I…can't breathe."

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too." Jack pulled back. "Can I call Daddy?"

Jessica nodded. "Yes. Just let me hold you for another minute."

"Okay," Jack agreed. But he would have endured hell if it meant talking to his dad. And right now while his aunt hugged him in public, was as close to hell as a seven year old boy could get.


	8. Chapter 8

_JJ has just been offered the deal of a life-time. What will she say? And will Hotch change her mind?_

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Jen sat in the overstuffed executive office chair and stared out the large windows in the dark office. She had sought to seek refuge from everything and try to find an answer that could help her deal with what was happening. And being in Erin Strauss's office had been the likeliest of solutions.

But it wasn't helping.

If anything, it was adding to her stress. Her finger ran across the smooth mahogany desk top. A sad thrill went thru her body. She had wanted to come back to the BAU, but not because of recent events. There was no love lost between her and Erin Strauss, but she never wished…

A tear escaped and ran down her cheek. When she had been summoned into the FBI Director's office earlier, she assumed it had to do with Interpol and Doyle, but they had had something else on the agenda: BAU Chief. And it was hers if she wanted it. The glass ceiling had been broken and there was no going back. Plus with her year at the State Department and previous workings with the BAU, they thought the transition would be smoother. They had their doubts that she couldn't remain unbiased, but they needed to fill the position…fast. Would she take it?

Her only response was to tell them that she would think about it, but she needed time. Now she sat in the dark office and wondered how things had come to where they were. It could be a blessing in disguise, but what kind of blessing? Would she reap heaven or hell? What if she ended up like Strauss? What if in the process of gaining everything, she lost it all?

She wouldn't be traveling anymore - or as much as she was with the BAU and the State Department. She would have most of her weekends and holidays to herself. She could finally watch Henry grow up. But it wasn't going to save her and Will. They were over. They had been over for so long she lost track of when they had actually drifted apart. Even if they had been together, this latest development would have torn them apart. He hated the FBI and loathed the BAU.

But she couldn't pass this up. Not for anything.

"What should I do?" she asked the family portrait with Erin Strauss standing beside her children.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Before she could answer, a figure stepped inside.

"JJ?" Aaron Hotchner asked low as if afraid to bring on Erin's ghost.

"Hi Hotch."

"What are you doing in here?" He stepped closer to the desk.

"Thinking."

"Want to tell me about it?"

JJ spun the chair around to look at the moon. "I'm surprised you haven't already heard."

"About what?"

"They offered me Strauss's position. I have to let them know by morning."

"What are you going to do?" Hotch asked.

"A part of me wants to jump on the offer and run with it."

"But…?"

"Another part - the sensible part - tells me to let it go and stay with the State Department."

Hotch came around the desk and sat down on the corner.

"You would make Will happy."

JJ snorted. "Will. I don't give a damn about Will and what makes him happy."

"Doesn't he want you to stop traveling? You can spend more time at home raising Henry."

"Will and I broke up six months ago."

Hotch looked confused. "But I thought… I saw you two at the party…"

"For show."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"And have you looked on me like I'm a failure?" JJ scoffed. "I don't think so."

Hotch shook his head. "I would have never done that."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But the embarrassment… I saw what you went thru with Haley. I couldn't put the team through another crisis."

"Jayje…we have shared the biggest secret in the history of the FBI; I can't believe you thought you couldn't come to me."

"Sorry, Hotch."

"So, what can I do to help you decided what to do?"

JJ shook her head. Her gaze concentrated on the dark sky. _Is Henry sleeping? Or is he crying out for me? Can he feel the hug I'm sending him?_ She wondered as her arms crossed over her chest.

"No matter what I decide is not going to change what happened. It might make things worse," JJ said.

Hotch spun the chair so JJ faced him. "No. Not doing what makes you happy is going to make things worse. I should have learned that with Haley, but I was too intent on feeling guilty for letting everyone down. Look what it got me." Hotch braced his hands on the armrests. "Don't turn into me."

"Give me one good reason why I should take this job," JJ challenged.

"Because you deserve it."

"_You_ deserve it," JJ corrected. "This should have been yours years ago."

"I never wanted it. I like being on the team."

"But I thought…" JJ tried to focus on Hotch's revelation.

"My job is catching the bad guys. Prosecuting them after the fact…I've done that already. I like this much better. If catching one bad guy before he can inflict too much damage makes the world safer for Jack and Henry…then it's worth it." Hotch's eyes burned into JJ's.

"That is how you should look at it," he continued. "The decision you make can't be just for you; it has to be for everyone. This job isn't about one person. But I know you can do it. And when you make your decision, I know it's going to be the right one." He looked deep into her eyes. "So what's it going to be?"


	9. Chapter 9

_JJ makes her decision._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

"I knew you would say that," she whispered. Her heart beat faster as the scent of his cologne weaved around her and tickled her nostrils. It was just like him: strong and powerful and cunning, but oh so subtle.

Pushing back, she stood up and walked toward the windows.

"What will the team say?" she asked.

Hotch shrugged. "What does it matter what the team says? You were offered the job. I say take it."

JJ rubbed her arms to ward off the sudden chill. "I know. I should, but…I don't know. It may be too soon."

"Life has to go on, Jen. Whether we like it or not. If you don't take the job, someone else will. And when they leave, someone else will take it. There will always be someone out there ready to pick up where the last one left off." He came up behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Turning her around to face him, he took in her bright blue eyes sparkling with tears.

"Erin would have wanted you to succeed her. You were the only person on the team she didn't have a grudge against." Gently he stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "If you say yes, you can keep the team together."

"What about Rossi and Emily?" JJ breathed.

"You are the only way we can get them back."

"I -" JJ searched for the right words. Everything she ever wanted was within her reach. But did she dare grab it? She tried to concentrate on everything except what her body was screaming out for, but her mind and heart were jumbled and overwhelmed by the emotions Hotch was making her feel.

"Just say yes, Jen."

Swallowing hard, she held his gaze. "Yes," she nodded.

Without a word, Hotch covered her mouth with his for a deep kiss full of passion and relief. Gathering her closer, he pressed her body to his as he coaxed her mouth open. With a small groan, she let him in. Her fingers weaved into his hair as their tongues mated wildly. Frantically their hands seeked to rid themselves of the clothing covering their bodies.

Without breaking the kiss, JJ loosened Hotch's belt and then the fly on his slacks. In return, he reached under her skirt and pulled down her panties. His fingers fumbled with desperation as he tried to shed his clothing and move them both to the floor.

They were breaking the rules and there was a greater than naught chance that they could be caught, but he needed her. More than anything - and after all that happened and what they shared - he needed to be one with her. Join with her and rid himself of the guilt he had carried for so long. They could go back to being professional in the morning, but he needed her now.

JJ threw her head back as Hotch trailed kisses down her jaw line to the valley between her breasts. As he greedily suckled, she tried to tell herself that what they were doing was wrong on many levels. At least the rule book stated so, but the second his hand cupped her, reason went out the window. Arching to meet his touch, she parted her legs and drew him in.

Tomorrow they were going to have to be professional and get back to finding Emily and Dave and tracking down Doyle. Tomorrow they were going to have to pretend that there was no life outside the FBI. Tomorrow they were going to have to start planning Erin Strauss's memorial service…

But that was tomorrow. Right now was all that mattered as Hotch filled her and made them one. Kissing her senseless, he set the pace and taunted her to keep up. He stroked her and whispered in her ear. He touched her beyond her wildest dreams.

They were using one another to assuage their guilt, but that didn't make what was happening any less exciting or erotic. The moment was happening, so why not go with it?

Waiting for her moment, JJ wrapped her legs around Hotch's waist, and in one swift move, turned him on his back. Surprised by her move, Hotch tried to gather his thoughts, but JJ was in control.

Bracing herself against his chest, she set the pace. She let him know that she was in charge and dared him to do something about it. Hotch just laid back and let the moment happen.

But the take could only go on for so long and then he wanted more. Thrusting upward, he took control as his mouth took a rosy pink nipple in his mouth. The faster his hips moved, the harder he suckled until she called out his name.

"Aaron!" JJ gasped. He was overwhelming her. She couldn't think and her body throbbed for release. As his mouth manipulated her and his body drove her to the edge, his fingers worked to make her insane. Three against one…she didn't stand a chance. She had to let go.

Moving faster against him, JJ cried out as bright star bursts danced behind her closed lids. She couldn't hold on one second longer.

"Look at me," Hotch demanded.

Opening her eyes, JJ did as she was told. Hotch was panting from exertion and covered in sweat, but his eyes held hers. Reaching up, he locked his hands with hers. He was almost there, but they were going together.

"Oh god, JJ!" Hotch cried out as his body finally gave up the fight.

"Hotch!"

Bucking wildly, JJ tried to hold on as her world spun out of control.

Slowly, the world stopped spinning and their breathing came back under control. Never had either one been where they had just journeyed. It was new, thrilling, forbidden, but oh so exciting.

"Wow!" JJ breathed against Hotch's chest. Closing her eyes, she breathed in his musky scent.

"Wow is right," Hotch agreed while his hands gently stroked JJ's blonde locks. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he wouldn't trade it for a million dollars.

JJ felt the cool air of the vent blow against her skin. "We have to get out of here." She pushed against Hotch's chest.

Wrapping his arms around her, Hotch fought to hold on one more minute. "Let me hold you, Jen."

"Aaron…"

"Just another minute, then I'll let you go. I promise."

Relaxing, JJ settled back into his embrace. She could give him another minute…or two.


	10. Chapter 10

_Sorry about the long wait. I have been concentrating on so many other stories that I totally put this one out of my head. But I have a goal: Finish before the season premiere! I know I can do it! Hope this extra long chapter makes up for leaving you hanging._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Spencer Reid walked down the long hallway of the hospital. His directions were clear: go out to Utah and protect Ashley Seaver. He had other duties before that required him to play the role of protector, but nothing that had ever hit this close before. An actress was nothing compared to a fellow agent he had come to like as a sister. And now that her life was in danger, he was willing to lay it all on the line to make sure those who were terrorizing the FBI were held back and eventually brought to justice.

Approaching the nurse's station, he waited patiently to be assisted.

"May I help you?" a nurse inquired.

"Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm with the FBI." Reid flashed his credentials. "I'm here to check on the status of Agent Seaver."

The nurse checked her list. "She's still in ICU."

"What is the prognosis?" Reid asked.

"She's scheduled for another CAT scan today. If you'll wait here, I'll get the doctor."

"Is there a way I could see Agent Seaver?"

"I don't see why not. Follow me." The nurse led Reid down the hall to the room with the guard outside the door.

"Did her mother arrive?" Reid asked, his voice low.

The nurse nodded. "Yesterday."

"Has she had any visitors?"

"None."

"Any phone calls?"

"No."

"Is there a way I can get a copy of her medical chart? I want to look over everything before I report back to the bureau."

"I'll ask the doctor."

"Thank you."

"We'll be in to take her down to X-Ray in an hour." The nurse turned around and left.

The agent by the door scrutinized Reid closely.

"Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm here to check on Agent Seaver." Reid handed over his credentials.

"Agent Jareau called to say that you would be on your way."

"Has there been anyone suspicious hanging around?" Reid inquired.

"No one." The agent handed back the credentials. "Everyone has to show ID to enter the room. But so far, nothing has been out of the norm. But then again, I just got on about an hour ago."

"Keep an eye out."

"Yes sir."

Reid opened the door and stepped inside. The fluorescent light seemed harsh against the stark white walls and crisp white sheets. The constant beeping of the machines near the wall where Ashley lay pierced the stillness of the room.

"Mrs. Seaver?" Reid asked.

The older blonde woman sitting beside the hospital bed raised her head. "Yes?" she asked. Her eyes were red rimmed and her nose swollen. Her voice was raw with emotion.

"I - I'm Spencer Reid from the FBI. I was sent out here by Agent Hotchner to help out." He moved to the end of the bed.

The smile was small, but genuine. "So, you're Agent Reid. Ashley told me about you." Her hand gripped her unconscious daughter's more tightly.

"I hope it was all good," Reid joked weakly.

"She said you were the one who helped her out at the BAU."

Reid shifted his weight. It was an uncomfortable moment, but he still had a job to do. "Mrs. Seaver, did Ashley mention anything before this happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like someone following her? Maybe asking questions?"

Mrs. Seaver shook her head. "No. In fact, she was making plans on visiting her grandmother next month."

"Has she had phone calls?"

"No…at least nothing she told me about. She, umm, she was excited about staying here in Utah. I didn't want her to. I wanted her to transfer to Oklahoma. I thought…" The woman's voice shook as emotion overwhelmed her. "I thought she was making a wrong decision by staying here. I felt her life was in danger." Fresh sobs shook her body.

"This would have happened if she had been in Oklahoma or Virginia," Reid replied gently.

"Who did this to my daughter?" she sobbed openly.

Reid licked his lips as he paused before answering. "A man named Ian Doyle. He is a terrorist."

"By why my Ashley? She doesn't even know terrorists?" The grief was instantly replaced by anger. "Why would a terrorist want to harm my daughter?"

"Because he wants to get even with the FBI."

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

Reid moved closer to Ashley. "One of our agents infiltrated Ian Doyle's team a few years ago and brought him down. It was supposed to be a joint operation between Homeland Security and Interpol. Somewhere along the way, Ian Doyle escaped and with the help of a mole in France, he found out the identities of everyone involved. He has made it his mission to eliminate everyone who brought him to justice."

"But I don't understand! What did Ashley have to do with it?"

"Ashley was friends with one of the agents who was involved."

Flummoxed, Ashley's mother shook her head. "What? How?"

"Mrs. Seaver, I cannot go into detail."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because Ashley's life is still in danger. The agent involved did the one thing Ian Doyle found unforgivable."

"What was that? Did she try to kill him?" Mrs. Seaver bit out.

Reid shook his head. Then he met her gaze. "She took his son."  
>*****<p>

The older man looked around the cottage for anything out of place. Satisfied, he smiled at the couple.

"Looks pretty good."

"Thank you," Em replied.

"Did you have a good honeymoon?" he asked.

Dave wrapped his arm around Em's shoulder. "Yes, we did."

"I can tell. Glad I could help out."

Dave reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. Wordlessly, he handed it to the older man. "As per our agreement."

The man pocketed the cash. "What are you going to do now?"

"We're heading back home to Montana," Dave answered evenly. "Time to get back to work."

"Sorry to see you go."

"Tesoro, would you mind finish packing?" Dave asked. Em nodded and left the two men to talk.

"What time does your plane leave?"

"Twelve hours."

"Heathrow can get busy."

"So, I've heard," Dave answered.

"I got the petrol for your car."

"Thank you."

"Who are you and your wife running from?" the man asked.

"Really bad guys who don't mess around."

"I understand."

"They won't hesitate to get what they need to know to find us."

"Does this have anything to do with the missing American Ambassador?"

Dave nodded. "That is why no one can know we were here."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Good." Dave shook the man's hand. Em came outside with the go bags.

"Everything is ready," she announced. "Thank you for letting us stay." She shook the man's hand.

"Take care of her," he ordered to Dave.

"I will." Dave and Em walked to the car. Getting in, they buckled up.

"Good luck and Godspeed." The man waved.

Dave and Em gave a quick wave back.

Starting the car, Dave pulled out of the drive and headed toward the main road.

"Do you think he'll tell?" Em asked.

"No. I trust him."

The silence stretched out. Shifting gears, Dave pressed the gas pedal. He wanted to make London before sundown so they could touch base with Hotch before trying to locate Doyle. There was a chance that Elizabeth Prentiss was dead, but he kept that knowledge to himself. First things first, they needed to get their bearings before planning their attack.

"Doyle is going to know we are in London," Em commented matter-of-factly.

Dave kept his eyes on the road. Like clockwork, his eyes shifted from the road to the mirrors. His profiler instincts were on high alert. Something was hinkey that he couldn't put his finger on it, and he wasn't going to let his guard down. Too much was at stake.

"When we get to London, we'll find out how Ashley is doing," Dave offered.

"That's good."

"What's bothering you, Em?" Dave glanced out the mirror at the blue car tailing them. He held his breath as his body tensed. Eventually the car changed lanes and Dave relaxed…a little.

"Are you sure about this?"

"You mean going after Doyle?" he asked.

"I mean putting your life on the line for me."

"It's not just you; it's for the whole team. The BAU is my family, and if there is one thing I treasure, it's my family. I can handle him going after me; I can take care of myself. But when he decided to attack the people that I care about to extract vengeance…well, in my book, all bets are off."

"But my mother is not part of 'the family'." Em turned to look at the man who was willing to lay his life down for her and the team - no questions asked. At that moment, her heart fell. Hard.

"I had a mother, Em, and I know what it's like to lose the person who was the more important figure in your life. You should not have to deal with that pain…at least not thru the actions of a mad man."

Dave reached over with his left hand and took Em's. He squeezed gently. "We're going to get him."

"What if she's dead?" Em choked out in a whisper.

"We're still going to get him. And then we send his sorry ass to hell."

Em blinked back hot tears. "Thank you."

"Let's get to London."

Dave pushed in the clutch and shifted gears.


	11. Chapter 11

_Elizabeth and Dave share a coincidence. And the time is drawing closer to the ultimate show down._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

_Elizabeth Prentiss crept down the long dark hallway. Her hand reached out blindly to touch the wall as she guided herself to escape. He hadn't been back in a day and she decided to make a break for it. Her insides quaked with fear as she opened the door to her prison. She couldn't breathe as the latch disengaged. _

_Looking around, she saw the hallway void of anyone. This was her chance. But as she continued her escape down the long, winding hallway, she felt fear fill her gut. Where was she? How big was the chateau? Maybe she was walking around in circles. She needed a light - something to help her find her way. _

_A sound caught her ear. Rats! The clicking and high pitched screeching way they communicated would always stay with her. A cold chill broke out over her skin. She had to keep forward._

_Putting one foot in front of the other, she made her way around the corners, past doorways, down stairs. Another turn drew her up a winding staircase. Climbing up, it seemed to go on forever. She didn't know if she was going up or down. She lost all sense of direction as vertigo threatened to claim her. But she had to keep going. She had no choice. She had to escape._

_A light at the top of the stairs drew her in. ESCAPE! Her heart beat faster as a new burst of energy claimed her. Taking that last step, she nearly shouted in victory. She was getting out and going home. She was going to find Emily and hold her close. She was going to take the longest bath in history._

_All she had to do was walk thru that door._

"_You can do this, Elizabeth. Turn the knob. Turn it!" she commanded herself. _

_Hesitantly, she turned the cold knob. Freedom was waiting for her. _

_As the door swung open, she blinked against the harsh, bright light. Was that the sun? It was cold and it didn't burn her eyes. Was she in hell?_

_A whimper. So sad. So final. Turning her head, she rubbed her eyes and looked around. Her eyes made out the figure sitting in the chair against the far wall. Dark hair, beaten half to death…oh God! That was Emily. That bastard had caught her and now he was holding her prisoner._

_She had to run and get help. No! She had to stay! Her mind debated the moment. She had to save her daughter. That was her duty as a mother! But Emily would want her to run. What could she do? She could call Agent Hotchner; he would know what to do! _Stop thinking foolish, _she commanded herself. _

_The sound of a hammer on a gun being pulled back turned her blood into ice. _

Run, Mom,_ Emily communicated non-verbally._

I can't; I have to save you! _Elizabeth returned._

No! Don't let him hurt you!

I can get help.

"_It's too late," Doyle spoke out loud. He leveled the barrel of the gun at Emily's temple. "I told you, Elizabeth that you were going to watch me torture your daughter. Don't forget to say good-bye."_

_The sound of a gun firing filled the air._

"_NO!" Elizabeth screamed._

Sitting up in bed, Elizabeth tried to catch her breath. The room was dark - save for the light of the moon shining thru the large bay windows. The room was warm, but she was so cold. Where was she? Was she still alive? Her thoughts raced.

Covering her heart, she felt the rapid beating. She was still alive, but was Emily? Oh God, she had to save her daughter!

Moving to the edge of the bed, she was stopped by a firm hand gripping her arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" Doyle asked darkly.

"I - I…needed to go to the bathroom," Elizabeth replied weakly.

"You can stay here. Lie down, a thaisce," he commanded. "You need your energy. Emily will soon find us and I want you to be at your best when you say good-bye."

Elizabeth thought about pulling away and trying to make her escape. But it would be fruitless. She was naked and he was faster. And when he caught her, he would punish her with something worse than a beating. Her poor body couldn't take much more. She had no choice, she had to stay.

Lying down against the cool sheets, she tried to ignore the arm that was thrown around her waist. She tried to think of the dinner party she had missed the other evening. Had the Countess of Rochester shown up with all the gaudy jewelry she was famous for? Had the Ambassador of some small country gotten drunk and started telling dirty jokes? Was the pate Danish? Was the caviar Russian?

She hadn't been there, but would it have mattered? Erin was dead and life was going on without them. It was so unfair.

And her Emily was out there somewhere. And when Doyle found her, they were as good as dead.

There was no way any of them but the man lying beside her was going to walk out of this hell alive.

A single tear slipped from her eye.  
>*****<p>

Em sat up in bed and let out a loud gasp. Then her shoulders shook with heavy, heart wrenching sobs. Immediately, Dave was awake and by her side.

"Tesoro, what's wrong?" he comforted as his arms went around Em's slim form. Tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder, he felt her hot tears on his bare skin. "Was it a bad dream?" he asked softly.

Em shook her head. "N-n-no. It was a prem-premonition."

"Your mother?" He smoothed his hand over her hair.

"Yes." She tried to mold herself closer into him. She needed his security and his strength.

"You dreamt she was dead?" Dave asked softly.

"Yes." Em wept openly as the dream came back in full force.

"But there was something else…" Dave prompted. He tightened his grip around her. "Was it you?"

Unable to speak, Em shook her head violently.

Dave took a deep breath. "I see. Was it me?" he asked. Silence was his only answer. Pulling back slightly, he crooked a finger under Em's chin. He tilted her face to his. "Was it me?" he repeated softly.

The lights from the street below flickered in the window and made her tears glisten like diamonds.

"Yes."

"Nothing is going to happen to me. I won't let Doyle get that close."

"I'm the one who had to shoot you!" Em cried.

Dave gave her a wry smile. "Fulfilling the wish you made when we first met?" he joked.

"It's not funny, Dave!"

"Tesoro, do you know how many women have dreamt about shooting me? None of them ever came close."

"I own a gun."

"So did five of them. And three of those five were sharpshooters."

"It was real. You died in my arms."

"I can't think of a better place to expire."

"Dave…I'm serious!"

Dave held her gaze with a serious look. There was no joking in his tone. "Emily Prentiss, there is nothing I won't do to help you get your mother and send that Irish bastard to hell on a fast train. But if it comes down to your mother or me, you take the shot."

"I can't," Em argued.

"You can, and you will."

"Dave…"

"I love you, Emily. Remember that if and when you have to pull the trigger." He held her so close, she felt her ribs hurt. "Imagine the parties all my former lovers and wives will throw for you; you'll be the toast of D.C."

"I should shoot you now," she whispered but a slight smile tugged at her lips.

"Why waste the moment before it arrives?" Kissing the top of her head, Dave closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. He wanted to burn the moment into his brain and heart forever. But he would never tell her. Em had enough to worry about.

"Let's get to sleep; we have to follow that lead first thing," he reminded.

"Okay."

Kissing her deeply, Dave laid her down on the mattress and covered her body with his. Slowly, he began to make love to her. He took his time to kiss every single inch of her body. His hands touched her as though they were handling delicate china.

And when he made them one, he hoped she felt the love he had for her.

Because he didn't want her to know what he couldn't say: he had dreamt his own death, too.


	12. Chapter 12

_Of all the chapters I've written, this was by far the most difficult of them all. It's a bridge chapter that will give the reader a few clues, but don't be fooled. There are a few more twists and turns._

**~*~ Profiler's Choice 2011 Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds Community ~*~**

**Hosted by ilovetvalot and tonnie2001969**

_It is our pleasure to announce the Second Annual Profiler's Choice Fanfic Awards for the Criminal Minds community! _

_The nomination ballot is now available, and all rules are posted on Chit Chat on Author's Corner forum! Nomination ballots must be received by October 15, 2011 and must be sent to this PM at Profiler's Choice CM Awards. Fics for consideration must have appeared on the CM section of between September 1, 2010 and August 31, 2011 (see rules for full details.)_

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Em waited at the table inside the café. Twice she checked her watch. Her contact was running late and her instinct was on high alert. She and Dave hadn't been found out; she knew that for a fact. Something had happened.

Glancing over at Dave, who sat at a table in the far corner, she nodded slightly. In response, he raised his paper and ignored her. He was supposed to be her back up incase things got out of control - he wasn't supposed to get involved.

The front door opened and more customers came inside. It was getting late. Where the hell was the contact?

As the waitress passed by, she offered a refill on Em's coffee. Pouring the hot, black liquid, she moved on to other customers.

"I thought you were dead," a voice commented in a whisper. Em looked up as a slight man with a shaggy hair cut and a beard sat down at the table.

"Just call me Lazarus," Em replied. "You're late."

"You're blonde." Grabbing the cup of coffee, he took a swallow. "Still using artificial sweetner, I see."

Em shrugged. "Getting a new identity doesn't mean that I have to get new habits." Quickly, she looked around. "Were you followed?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" Em glared at the man hard.

"I checked behind me every step."

"Who else knows?"

"There is a rumour going around."

"Keep it going. Where is he staying?" Em asked darkly.

"A house somewhere."

"Where?"

"It's going to cost you."

Em reached into her coat and pulled out a stack of bills. "Now tell me."

"The price went up."

Em snorted in disgust. "You're kidding, right?"

"You asked for what he was staying in, not where. That's going to cost you more."

Em shifted her weight. "If it's going to cost anyone, I would say it would be you." She leaned in a few inches. "See, I have a gun trained on your best friend. I don't have a problem with breaking you two up."

"You wouldn't dare," he countered, but sweat broke out on his forehead. "Guns are illegal in England."

"Not if you're Interpol. And no one is going to give a shit that I killed a turn coat. Playing both sides against the other can only end in one way." Em narrowed her eyes.

"You're an American!"

"I'm on a joint task force. That gives me special privileges…one of which is to put a cap in your sorry ass." She leaned in closer. "And there is a silencer. Now tell me what I need to know."

The man swallowed nervously. The money was good, but playing between Doyle and Lauren was going to get him killed. He wasn't sure who was going to pull the trigger first, but he was definitely a dead man.

"You have ten seconds. Ten. Nine. Eight…" Em counted.

"Okay. Put it away and I will tell you. If he finds out, he is going to kill me."

"Don't tell me, and you're going to wish he had."

"He has a chateau outside of Manchester."

"What else did he say?"

"He said to bring your lover."

Em considered his words. "Run," she ordered.

"What?" He tried to comprehend the command.

"Run. Now. You have until the count of three."

"Are you crazy?" His eyes flew from her to the crowded room.

"You could stay and find out. But think of all you could lose by doing so."

Frantically, he got up from the chair and ran out of the café. Em slipped her gun in her purse, laid a few bills on the table, and went outside. Rounding the corner, she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Drawing in the smoke, she tried to calm her nerves.

"You should really try to quit those things before you get back to Quantico," Dave remarked as he walked up to her.

"It this or get drunk off my ass. I can't afford a hang-over." She blew the smoke out.

"Did he say if your mother is alive?" Dave wondered as he kept an eagle eye on the passer bys.

"Doyle knows you're with me."

"We knew that already."

"He called you my 'lover'." Em took another drag.

"I am."

"He makes it sound dirty. He will torture you just to make me suffer."

Dave considered his response, then stopped. Em wasn't going to listen to reason and what could he say to reassure her when she had seen so much already?

"Where is he?" Dave asked.

"A chateau outside of Manchester."

"You think the information is wrong?"

"I don't think so."

"Then we go to Manchester."

Em took a long drag. Then she stubbed the cigarette out against the brick wall. Expelling the smoke, she looked at Dave. He was her one constant in the chaotic thing called her life. She was never going to be able to pay him back.

"There is no turning back once we get the go ahead from Hotch," she replied.

"Good. I'm tired of dicking around."

"Are you sure?" Em's heart beat faster than normal.

Dave nodded. "Call Hotch." He reached out and touched her blonde wig. "We end this now."

Pulling out her phone, Em made the call.  
>******<p>

Ian Doyle sat behind his desk. His morning had started off with one catastrophe after another and he was still waiting on news from the contact who was supposed to meet Emily Prentiss.

The phone rang. Grabbing the receiver he barked into the receiver. "You better have some fucking good news."

"She's alive."

"I know that!" he growled.

"How did you know?" the voice on the other end asked incredulously.

"Because she's been a fucking thorn in my side since this whole thing began. I want her eliminated."

"She's surrounded by guards and an FBI agent."

"No she isn't."

"Yes, she is."

"I have a contact meeting her today," Doyle replied. His temper was rising and it was taking everything he had not to shoot the phone.

"Who?"

"Emily Prentiss, you stupid fuck! Who did you think I was talking about?" Doyle shouted.

"Ashley Seaver."

Doyle froze. "What do you mean 'she's still alive'? Ferguson put a bullet in her head."

"Well, he didn't do it very well. Seems she is in critical condition at the trauma centre in Salt Lake City under armed guard."

"What's her prognosis?"

"Touch and go. She's in a coma."

"Then finish her." Doyle let out a heavy sigh. Did he have to carry the water, too?

"I can't get pass the guard and the FBI agent."

"Let me guess: Spencer Reid."

"Yes."

"I should have known Aaron Hotchner would have sent a boy to do a man's job. Take him out."

"But…"

"The kid can't shoot to save his life. Take him out. Then take out Seaver. You have your orders. Don't fail me."

"Yes sir."

Doyle slammed the receiver down. Immediately, he let out a long stream of curse words in Gaelic. His men had messed up. One simple bullet to take out one agent and they had messed that up. He should kill them all just to make an example. But he needed them.

The phone rang again.

"Tell me what I want to hear."

"She's on her way."

"You told her?"

"Just like you told me."

"How did she react?"

"She threatened to shoot me in the crotch."

Doyle snorted. "She always did have a flair for the dramatic. Was that Italian bastard with her?"

"I didn't see him, but I'm sure he was."

"She won't make a move without him or Agent Hotchner."

"Should I follow them and take him out?"

"No. Did she tell you anything else?" Doyle wondered.

"She told me to run."

Doyle thinned his lips in thought. "Maybe you should have taken her advice."

The sound of a loud pop came over the line and then it went dead. Doyle replaced the receiver.

Leaning back in his chair, he looked out the large window at the long drive way.

Emily was going to come after him seeking her revenge. Her thirst for blood was almost as strong as his, but how long would she last after he killed her mother and lover?

Then she would be at his mercy.

He couldn't wait.


	13. Chapter 13

_I am going to work as fast as I can to make sure that this story is finished before the premiere. Okay, so there are a couple of surprises and twists in this chapter. Though it's going to make people stand back, I hope it answers some questions._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

JJ's pen was poised over the notepad as she tried to concentrate on what was being said on the phone. The line was bad, but there had been no time for a secure line when the phone rang and she answered without thinking.

"Where are you?" she repeated.

"Outside…London," Em's voice crackled over the receiver. "Heading…Manchester…morning."

"Where is Rossi?" JJ asked.

"…side me. We're…tomorrow…news on…Ambassador."

"We haven't heard anything," JJ replied, her voice rising in pitch to make sure Emily heard her over the static. "Strauss's funeral is going to be on Saturday," she supplied as an afterthought. There was a part of her that knew that there was a greater chance than naught that Emily and Dave would not be returning, but the logical part of her thought it was best that they at least knew what was happening back at home.

"I'll tell Dave," Em replied.

"Emily…" There was so much JJ wanted to tell her friend. But where to start? No matter what she tried to say, it didn't sound good to her ears. What could she say: _Take care? Stay safe? Come back home alive? _No one could make that promise and fulfill it. And with everything that was going on, it was a fulfillment that could never come into fruition.

"I love you, Jen," Em's voice came over the line clear. And then the phone went dead. Of all the things for the transmission to carry, it had to be those four words.

Dumbfounded, JJ held the phone for a long minute and tried to gather her thoughts. It was final. Everything was moving forward and there was no way to stop it.

A knock on the door interrupted her. Recovering, she hung the receiver up and quickly brushed away the tears.

"Come in," she called out with false brightness.

The door opened to reveal Morgan.

"Sorry to bother you. Are you busy?" he asked, but there was no apology in his tone.

"No. Have a seat." JJ waited for him to sit down. "What's wrong?"

"How long were you and Hotch going to string the team along with Emily's 'death'?" he asked. No formalities. No hesitation. Just out there. But there was no time for beating around the bush; his family was in danger. His BAU Director was dead. And the two people he thought he knew real well, had lied and deceived him and his friends.

"Derek…"

"How long were you and Hotch going to keep lying to us and letting us believe that Emily was dead when you knew that she was overseas trying to locate and kill Doyle?"

"For as long as it took," JJ replied evenly.

"For what? For her to kill the son of a bitch or for him to kill the team?" Morgan shot back. "I expected this kind of deception from Hotch. Hell, with all that he's been thru over the past two years, I'm surprised that he didn't go after Ian Doyle himself"

"We were monitoring him."

"He slipped out of the country without Homeland Security even being aware of it! He's been living over in Europe high on the hog while we stayed here with the wool pulled over our eyes!"

JJ sighed. "There is no denying that the ball was dropped…"

"No shit! You think?" Morgan sarcastically replied.

"I was doing the best I could, but I was told to stay out of it."

Morgan's eyes narrowed. "By whom?"

"I can't give names. That's classified."

Morgan bit out a vulgarity as he jumped up from his chair. "There's a fucking surprise! Why didn't you just say 'I don't know'? At least try to lie."

"What good is it going to do for you to know who gave the order?" JJ returned just as hotly.

"Because I want to know who to get a hold of when Doyle goes after my family."

JJ shook her head. "I'm not going to tell you that."

"You and Hotch are thick as thieves since this whole thing went down. Why am I not surprised that you are repeating the same thing he said?"

"Because the person who gave the order is way above all of our pay grades combined. There is too much politics involved. If you think that there are blacked out spaces in that one report for the Gambino Family take down, you will be seeing blacked out spaces in your sleep if you read the report on Emily."

"You should have told us!"

"We couldn't!"

"I thought there was trust on the team," he shot out as he paced the floor.

"It had nothing to do with trust! One slip up…one misspoken word…one little thing uttered when you think no one was around and all hell would have broken lose!"

"Bullshit! I didn't roll on Hotch when the whole Foyet thing went down; I could be trusted to keep my mouth shut!"

"It had nothing to with 'keeping your mouth shut', Derek," JJ replied back in a low tone. "We were under surveillance for the first six months after Emily was buried. Our phones were bugged." Grabbing the thick file beside her right hand, she extended it to him. "Don't believe me? Read it yourself! "

Morgan opened the folder and silently read the report. His lips moved wordlessly as he scanned the sheet. 

"You're so damned worried about your family being in danger? Well, being in danger is a lot better than being dead! Doyle had it all planned out on how he was going to take us out and then kill our families. So, don't preach to me about withholding information when we were busting our asses to keep all of you safe."

Morgan closed the folder and set it down on the desk top. "Is that why you came back?"

JJ took a deep breath and tried to consider her response. "Not really."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Which is just the bureaucratic way of stating 'none of your damn business'."

JJ nodded. "You learn fast."

"Is there anything you can tell me?"

"Off the record?"

"At this point, I don't give a fuck if it's on or off as long as I get some answers."

"Sit." She gestured to the chair. Warily, Morgan eyed her before doing as he was ordered. JJ followed. The moment stretched painfully between them.

"Emily suspected that her cover had been blown in Spain back around Christmas, but she couldn't be sure. She had gone underground with some of the identities the State Department and Interpol had set up, but she was running out of time because Doyle was starting up again."

"Gun running?" Morgan asked.

"That was part of the list of the things he was getting back into. We had tracked him to outside Chicago, but then his trail went cold. The guy on the inside was murdered." JJ's voice trailed off.

Morgan frowned as his brain started putting pieces together. "Agent Morris?"

"Yes."

"But…"

JJ shook her head. "We had to keep it hushed because someone on the inside had alerted Doyle."

"Someone…? You mean a mole? Here in the building?" Morgan looked around to make sure the door was closed and moved closer to the desk.

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

"We don't know. But we are sure he had something to do with Morris's cover being blown and Doyle being alerted to Emily's possible existence." JJ crossed her fingers under the desk out of Morgan's sight. She needed that bit of reassurance as she continued the fabrication.

"Does Garcia know? Is she on it? She can flush him out…"

"No one on the team…or for that matter, the FBI…is on this. We have someone doing the dirty work."

"How close are you?"

"I can't tell you."

"And Seaver?"

"We have her guarded."

"That's why you sent Reid," Morgan concluded.

"We have reason to believe that once Doyle gets wind that Ashley is still alive, he is going to make his move."

"Wait! You set Reid up to flush out Doyle?" Morgan asked incredulously. Looking JJ in the eyes, the meaning suddenly dawned on him. Slapping his hands on the desk, he bit out a stream of curse words before vaulting to his feet.

"Goddamn you!" he thundered. "You set my friend up to be killed by the same thugs who are determined to wipe all of us off the face of the earth? What the fuck are you and Hotch thinking? Or are you?"

"Morgan, it's not what you think," JJ began.

"It's exactly what I think! You sent Reid into the alligator's pit! What? Wasn't Erin Strauss's sacrifice and taking one for the team enough? What's going to happen when Reid is killed? Who are you going to send in next? Me? Garcia? Thompson? Anderson?" Morgan lashed out. "How many of us is it going to take before you and Hotch realize that we are not decoys?"

JJ came around the desk and grabbed his arms to hold him still. "Morgan, keep your voice down."

"Why? I'm next on the list after Reid. I think I have the right to voice my displeasure at the prospect of the FBI sanctioning my death!" Morgan raged.

"Reid knows what he's getting in to," JJ whispered.

Morgan stopped cold. "What?"

"Reid requested to go out to Ashley to help flush out the mole and/or his accomplice."

Morgan swallowed hard. Fear gripped him. "What are you saying? That Reid volunteered this suicide mission? Why?"

JJ blinked back sudden tears as she pushed down the fear that everything could go wrong. It was the moment of truth. She had to come clean with what she and Hotch had learned.

"Because Anderson is the mole."


	14. Chapter 14

_A total Reid and Morgan/Garcia centered chapter._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Spencer Reid shifted in his chair and tried to get comfortable. Giving up, he stretched, yawned, then rubbed his eyes. Looking over at the sleeping woman on the bed, he tried to fight now the feelings that were bubbling near the surface. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but he had lost his chance. Just as he had with his mother, Elle, Gideon…and Emily.

He hadn't fallen in love with Ashley…not in the way most people fall in love. But there was something about her that drew him to her. Maybe it was her bubbly persona or her innocence despite the fact that her father was a serial killer. He had made a personal vow to watch out for her in the same way Gideon and Emily had watched out for him. But he had failed her.

_No, you didn't fail her; she transferred. There was nothing you could have done to stop this,_ he chastised himself. _You didn't fail her like Gideon failed you; you can still make it up to her._

He had to stop beating himself up for situations he had no control over. This was the one time he could make a difference. He would make a difference. No one was coming near Ashley…if he could help it.

Standing up, he felt for his side arm. Check. One less worry. Now if only he could shake that feeling of someone walking over his grave.

Running a hand over his face, he looked at the clock. 0237. Maybe the canteen was still open to get a cup of coffee or something just as strong. He was going to have to check in with Hotch in a couple of hours, and he wanted to be alert.

Picking up the chart at the foot of the bed, he glanced at it again. Sure he had it memorized, but he needed something to take his mind off the moment. JJ had warned him that if anything was going to happen, it would be at the hospital. It would be the most logical of places since Doyle was going to be out for revenge.

He wanted to think that Doyle wouldn't go that far, but he had studied too many sadistic killers over the years to believe otherwise. Revenge was too sweet for someone of Ian Doyle's mentality to pass up. He was going to eliminate everything and everyone. Even if the everyone included a comatose woman who probably would never wake up again.

Returning the chart, he moved toward the head of the bed. His eyes darted from one monitor to another as he comprehended the info rapidly. Everything was within normal range. He could go get his coffee.

"Don't worry, Ash," he whispered near her ear, "we are going to catch him. I promise." Squeezing her hand, he stepped back. The nurse would be in to check on her vitals soon. He could leave her.

As he opened the door, he looked over his shoulder. For a moment, he wondered if sending Mrs. Seaver home was a good idea.

"Good morning, Doctor Reid," the agent by the door greeted.

"Hello, Agent . Anything out of the ordinary?" Reid asked.

Agent Clyde shook his head. "Nothing. Well, I did swipe that pudding cup off the dinner cart earlier. Don't tell anyone." He gave Reid a sheepish look.

"Where is your relief?"

"Running late. I guess a bout of food poisoning has him in dispose."

"Did you call the field office?" Reid wondered. His eyes darted around.

"Affirmative. They are trying to send someone over right away. Are you heading out?"

"Just to get a cup of coffee. Bring you anything?"

"Thanks, but I have my Gatorade." Agent Clyde nodded toward his chair.

"Remember to check all ID's," Reid ordered.

"Affirmative. See you in a few minutes."

Reid walked down the passageway but he couldn't shake that feeling. Maybe once he called Hotch…0240. It would be nearly five in Quantico. It was possible that Hotch was awake.

Pulling out his cell phone, he hurried down to the waiting room.  
>******<p>

"Where is he, Baby Girl?" Morgan asked.

Garcia's long fingers flew over the keyboard at lightning speed. "I don't know. I tried pinging his phone, but he must have turned it off or destroyed it."

"You have to find him," Morgan growled. Standing up from his perch on the corner of the desk, he began nervously pacing. "How could I have missed this?"

"How could you have missed this?" Garcia retorted. "I was the one who set this new system up so no one could fool us again after I was…" She paused to gather herself. "I should have seen him coming. It makes sense...especially after his eval last year."

Morgan stopped pacing. "What do you mean? He failed it?"

Garcia shook her head. "No. Nothing like that. It was what he said. Remember how we were all pulled in after Emily…you know? Well, Anderson was up for his yearly eval when he mentioned that he wasn't surprised that Hotch would have managed to get another person close to him killed or severely injured." Her fingers typed to pull up the document.

Morgan leaned over and read the words silently to himself.

"And no one said anything?" he asked incredulously.

"The interviewer stated that it might be PTSD and would pass in time."

"Pass in time my ass! He began planning Hotch's downfall right about that time. I'd bet on it." Morgan read the words again. "I can't fucking believe this! No. Wait. I can. I told Hotch that this deception that he and JJ started was going to snowball and take everyone with it."

"Derek…" Garcia reached out and touched his arm lovingly.

"No, Pen. It was deceitful. They made a deal with the devil and now he wants payment."

"Derek. Listen to me, please. Now sit." He did as he was told. "I agree that what Hotch did was wrong, and a part of me is going to take a long while before I can forgive him and JJ for what they did. But think about it; Emily _is_ alive! Doyle didn't get to her!"

"Maybe not then, but he's after her now. And us," he shot back angrily. His eyes flashed with heat.

"Do you think it would have been different had Emily not 'died' and came back?"

"It was still wrong. Strauss is dead. Ambassador Prentiss is dead. Agent Morris is dead."

Garcia shook her head violently. "No. No. No. The Ambassador is not dead!" she denied.

"Doyle has her; she may as well be dead."

"But I don't have confirmation. Doyle likes to advertise his victories and nothing has come across my screen. She's still alive."

"For how long?"

Garcia blinked back tears. "I don't know. Maybe Rossi and Emily can get to her in time."

"Unless they are already dead. Then Hotch will have three more black marks beside his name."

"Stop that!" Garcia snapped. "You need to get over it, Derek!"

"My family could die! Did he think about that before creating this alternate reality for us to live in?"

"Well, guess what? _My_ family could die, too! What about Henry and Jack? Are they any less important because they aren't 'family'? Or is this only reserved for 'blood relations'? Because you know what. Derek, my only blood is already dead and buried; this here," she picked up the silver framed photo of the whole team with their families from the last FBI picnic, and thrust it at him, "is all I have to call my own!"

Morgan looked down at his hands for a moment. Then he raised his eyes to meet hers. "Pen, I wasn't saying…"

Garcia's chest rose and fell from anger and grief. "I understand why you take things personally, but it's clouding your common sense. Hotch and JJ have gone out of their way to insure that your family is safe. WITSEC is going out of their way to protect them."

"What if…? Look what happened to Haley."

"Your mother is smarter than Haley Hotchner. She isn't going to do anything to jeopardize her safety, or that of your sisters."

"I can't believe that we didn't see Anderson coming."

"He is an FBI agent who was trained in cloak and dagger. He has worked with the best and knows how not to draw attention to himself." Garcia laid her hand over Derek's and gave it a loving squeeze. "But I am going to find him."

"How? He didn't show up to work and his phone is gone."

"Oh, my delicious living, breathing chocolate bar," she sighed. "Don't you know by now that I have found the best of the best? Anderson is good, but he's not even in the same league as some of the scum dogs we have taken down." She turned back to the computer and started inputting data. "He still has to present himself as his true identity if he is going to board a plane with his service weapon."

Morgan looked at her sharply. "You think that he would do that? Why not get a fake ID?"

"Because he would have to undergo a background check at security. He doesn't want to cause a scene." She reached out and patted Morgan's cheek. "Leave it to…oh! I got a hit!"

"Where is he?" Morgan moved in closer to the screen.

"You might want to get Hotch and JJ." Her eyes looked at his with fear.

"Why? Where is he?"

"Colorado Springs," she replied.

Morgan was on his feet immediately. "Isn't that where we moved Reid's mother?"

"Yes." She blinked back the tears. "Derek…"

Touching Garcia's shoulder gently, he tried to calm her. "It's going to be alright. Call the facility and then call Reid."

Wordlessly, she nodded. Grabbing the phone, she started dialing as Morgan rushed out the door.


	15. Chapter 15

_The clock is counting down to the moment of truth._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Dave nudged Em in the side.

"Are you awake?" he asked in a whisper.

"Yes." Em stretched carefully as her body protested. They had driven to just a few miles outside of where Doyle was residing but instead of finishing the journey by car, they had parked in a discreet area and walked thru the forest. As the sun went down, they had hid under the nearest tree and cuddled together for warmth.

She had tried to stay awake and be alert - she as positive that the sounds of the forest and the possibility of them being discovered would have been enough to keep her on edge. But the moment Dave's arm went around her and pulled her into his warmth, she had fallen asleep. Maybe it was the exhaustion from being on the run or just the need to regroup and recharge before heading into what could be her hell.

Her thirst for revenge had hit its peak when Doyle had taken her mother. Now the gloves were off. Nothing she had done had warranted everything he had done to get even with her. Yes, she had hidden Declyn, but it had been for the boy's safety. And if she had to go back and do it again, she would…in a heart beat.

Yet, Doyle had decided that a life for a life meant as many as it took to get his son back…no matter the cost.

"Do you think they know we are coming?" Dave whispered.

"I wouldn't put it past that rat to have alerted Doyle," Em muttered. "A lot of good it did him."

Dave stretched. "What do you mean?"

"That he should have run when I told him," Em replied dryly. Her bladder was screaming for relief and she needed to move before she couldn't use her knees. Struggling to her feet, she rubbed her thighs to get the blood flowing. "I need a few minutes." She rifled thru the small go bag for the container of wipes.

"Take your time."

Dave waited for Em's footsteps to fade before he stood up. Bracing his weight against the tree, he pulled himself up. Painfully, his knees protested the movement. Breathing deeply, he started forward toward the brush.

A couple of minutes later, he walked back to the spot where he and Em had spent the night, and just listened. The painful sound of silence rang in his ears; still he strained to hear anything out of the ordinary. He didn't want to tell Em, but there was a part of him that was scared shitless for what was about to go down.

No matter how many times he prayed for the strength to not let Em and the Ambassador down, that nagging feeling in the back of his head reminded him that no matter how much bravado he had going in, it was no match against a bullet. Sure, he had had his moments of "faking it" when working for the Gambino Family, but that was different; it was about deals and money and territory. It was about power and who could come out first on the dog pile. It was about intimidation. Besides, it wasn't personal, it was business.

But this was different because it _was_ personal. It was about revenge and betrayal and an evil so strong that hate could not be used to describe it. In all of his years as a profiler, he had never come across such an indiscriminate killer with a thirst for blood such as Ian Doyle.

Maybe if the Irish bastard had just left well enough alone and played Cloak and Dagger with other terrorists he wouldn't have minded, but he had to involve the whole FBI. And in the process, Erin Strauss had lost her life, Ashley Seaver was clinging to hers, and everyone else was running scared for theirs. And that was where he drew the line.

The adults were one thing, but the thirst for blood involved the children: the innocence of the world. But he knew that there were killers out there that believe that the only way to wash away the sin was thru the blood of the innocent. And there were no two more innocents than Jack Hotchner and Henry La Montange.

The sound of leaves crunching caused him to tense up. Instinctively, his hand reached down to the sidearm and unlatched the strap on his gun. The footsteps came closer. Then a whistle.

Relaxed, he secured his weapon.

"Em?" he called out.

"Yes." The brunette came into the open area. Dave gave a sigh of relief. "Are you alright?"

"Just a little nervous."

Em pulled a plastic bag out of the go bag and disposed of the used wipe. "You have every right. I warned you."

"Yes, you did," Dave admitted.

Em pulled out two granola bars and tossed one to her partner. "Here."

"Thanks." Dave tore off the wrapper and took a bite. "When do we go in?"

"I went to the edge of the perimeter to check things out. There are four guards…one on every corner." Em took a bite and swallowed quickly. "If Doyle keeps to his routine, the shift should be changing at four; that will give us approximately five minutes to get inside."

"What makes you so sure that he hasn't changed anything?"

Em shrugged. "Because Doyle hates change. He will try to keep things normal to give himself a sense of power." Em finished the treat and put the wrapper in the plastic bag. "You done?" she asked. Dave handed over his refuse.

"I never asked you: what became of Doyle's son?" Dave wondered a loud.

Em paused in her search thru the larger go bag. Pulling out a large semi automatic weapon, she pulled out the clip, checked it, replaced it, and checked it again.

"I don't know."

"You don't 'know' or you won't tell me?" Dave asked.

"Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you. But I can honestly say that I don't know. I don't want to know." Methodically, she continued with her inspection.

"You've never been curious?" Dave moved closer to where Em stood.

Em shrugged indifferently. "In the beginning, I was, but there was nothing I could do; we were supposed to be 'dead'. Contacting him would have endangered him and me." Em took a deep, shuddering breath. She blinked quickly.

"You love him," Dave stated simply using the present tense. He held Em's gaze until she looked away.

"I wasn't supposed to," Em whispered, "he was a 'job'."

"He was a child whose father was a bad guy. He needed something good in his life. He was lucky to have you."

"Yeah, right." Em blew a burst of air upward to move her bangs.

"What happened to his mother?" Dave asked.

"The 'official' word was that she died after her car hit a patch of ice and went over the side of the cliff."

Dave got quiet. "What was the unofficial word?"

"Doyle's enemies cut the brake line as a warning to him."

"And that was the idea for making it seem like they came after you and the child? It's reasonable to think that they did it once, they would do it again," Dave suggested.

"That's what Interpol thought. I had to do what I could to protect Declan." Em finished checking the weapons. "I keep asking myself if I would do it again. Even after everything I have been thru with the team and the past year…"

"And what did you answer?" Dave asked softly.

Em raised her chin defiantly. "I wish I could have taken Doyle out when I had the chance." Dave gave her a questioning look. "Doyle had gone out and gotten drunk - I guess it was someone's birthday. To make a long story short, he came home and…" She paused to gather herself. "To say the least, it wasn't pleasant. After he passed out, I reached for the gun he kept in the nightstand and held it to his head."

"You didn't pull the trigger. Why?"

Em swallowed hard. Tears clogged her voice when she finally spoke. "Because I didn't have orders from the higher ups. It could have caused chaos."

"And now?"

"Fuck Interpol."

A small smile tugged at Dave's lips. That was the Emily Prentiss he knew and loved.

"So, what is the plan once we get inside?" he asked.

"We have to locate my mother."

"Any idea where he might be keeping her?" Dave checked his weapon.

"No telling. But we won't have much time. We get in, we get my mother, and we kill Doyle," Em stated coldly.

Dave shoved the gun in the waistband of his jeans. It wasn't lost on him that they were going in cold without bulletproof vests, better weapons, and no back up. The odds were stacked against them. For a moment fear gripped him in a tight vise.

Em looked at the chateau. Her eyes darted from window to window in hopes that there was some sign of life to help her locate her mother. For the first time since everything had begun a decade earlier, she was feeling apprehensive about the task she was about to undertake. And for the first time, she was afraid.

"I wish the team was here," she whispered.

Dave reached out and took her hand in his. He nodded in agreement.


	16. Chapter 16

_Anderson is about to make his move. And Elizabeth takes a stand as the climax is slowly building to the finale. _

_Thanks to all who supported me this past week. Sorry if this chapter is a bit weak; I'm still bouncing back. I guess it take a while to recover when kicked hard. And for those looking, the word "thru/through" is NOT used in this chapter._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Brian Anderson had a mission to complete. Actually, it wasn't a mission but a personal vendetta. Aaron Hotchner and his team had been a thorn in his side for too many years to count. But he was going to make sure that after all was said and done, the BAU would be nothing but a foot note in the annals of the FBI history books.

Who was Aaron Hotchner and who died and made him God? So he ruled that team with a fist of steel and a word of authority that dared anyone to cross him. That didn't mean _he_ was going to jump at command. He was tired of being told what to do by a man who could barely keep his life together.

Now he was going to get his pound of flesh, and it was going to be so sweet.

Anderson peered around the corner of the hospital corridor. The guard was still sitting outside Ashley Seaver's room. He should have known the team would stop at nothing to protect one of their own. Not that Seaver was one of them any more. He had had his reservations about hurting her. He had liked her. She was a little eager to please and more than a bit naïve. She probably would have made a better gopher than an FBI agent, but he had had some admiration for her.

He was surprised to hear that she had survived the hit. There must be a God and He had to be on her side. _Well,_ he thought sardonically_, He hadn't been on Erin Strauss's side._ Brian checked his weapon again. He felt no regrets rigging Erin's car to explode; the bitch had deserved that and much worse. If there was one person on earth he hated almost as much as Aaron Hotchner, it would be the woman who shared the same name. Twin forces of evil in polyester, navy blue suits.

Anderson checked his watch. If he knew the team, they had already started putting the pieces together. He would bet that they were still looking for the mole…unless Hotchner and JJ were still wrapped up in each other. He knew about their tryst in the office. He had wondered how long it would have taken them to finally cross the line. At least they got pleasure before the end.

Spencer Reid was leaving the room. That was going to make things easier. Once he got rid of the guard, he could take care of Seaver, then eliminate the genius doctor. Honestly, he had nothing against Spencer Reid - he could take or leave the man. There was a bit of naiveté that rivaled Seaver, but for different reasons. One tried to ignore their past while the other ran from it. It was no surprise that they would come together.

When he heard that they had sent a boy to do a man's job, he had laughed out loud. Maybe it was fate that it wasn't Dave Rossi they had sent. It would have been a little tougher trying to overpower him. But the famed FBI bad boy and founding father of the BAU was over in England either dead…or soon to be. There was a part of him that was going to miss the man who had propelled him to join the FBI.

Anderson shrugged as he checked his watch again. Yeah, he might miss David Rossi, but he would get over it. It wasn't anything personal; it was a job. And once his job was completed, he would be on the first plane to Europe. New identity. Fresh start. And no more BAU bastards to deal with. He could start all over. He had made friends in low places and he was going to collect his reward for eliminating Aaron Hotchner.

The guard was reading a magazine. _Stupid asshole; letting your guard down._ But how many times had he tried to distract himself from the long hours of sitting guard outside a room? He wasn't going to blame the kid, but it was going to make his job easier.

The shift was finished changing. Now he could make his move. Creeping around the corner, he made sure each step was silent as he approached the young man. Raising his pistol, he brought it down hard on the back of the agent's head.

Letting out a gasp, the agent slumped forward. Quickly, Anderson caught him. Pulling him up, he dragged the dead weight down the hall to the janitor's closet. Disposing the body on the floor, he bent over and checked for a pulse. Nothing. He must have hit the kid harder than he thought. Oh well, that couldn't be helped now.

Straightening up, he moved out of the tiny space and closed the door. By the time the staff found the bodies, he will have made his get away.

Checking to make sure the coast was clear, he moved down against the wall into Seaver's room. Pushing the door open, he walked inside. The sound of the machines beeping and breathing for her filled the quiet room.

Anderson watched Ashley lying on the narrow bed, her head bandaged, the bruises on her face, the breathing tube down her throat. Even close to death, she was still beautiful enough to take his breath away. He was going to hate killing her. At least in her vegetative state, she would never feel the bullet.

Raising his gun, he took aim at Ashley's forehead. His hand briefly shook. _Damn Sheen for not doing his job!_ he cursed. His finger curled around the trigger.  
>******<p>

"You could just kill me and put me out of my misery," Elizabeth Prentiss stated coldly.

"Why would I do that before Emily comes to 'rescue' you?" Doyle asked with a snort and shrug. "I want to see the look in your eyes as you watch your daughter die." He tightened the binds around Elizabeth's wrists. "I want you to feel that pain of feeling your child being taken away."

"You're a bastard!" Elizabeth spat.

"And your daughter is a cold-hearted bitch!" Doyle shot back.

"After watching you the past couple of days, I can see why she took your son; you don't deserve him!"

Without warning, Doyle's hand shot out and slapped Elizabeth across the face. Her head snapped to the side as bright star bursts went off behind her eye lids. A white hot pain filled her brain as tears filled her eyes.

"You fucking bitch!" Doyle growled and yanked Elizabeth to her feet. "You think I'm going to let you get away with that?" His hands ripped open her blouse. His hand grasped her breast and squeezed it hard. Elizabeth cried out. "Your daughter is a whore who stole my son," Doyle continued as he started to undo his belt. "You want to side with her?"

Elizabeth raised her chin. He was going to hurt her, but she could handle it. Emily was on her way. All she had to do was hold on a little while longer. Even if it meant that her body had to be violated in the process. It was a small price to pay if it meant that she could hold her daughter again.

Bracing herself for what was coming next, Elizabeth gave a small prayer to the Holy Mother.

A knock on the door interrupted Doyle.

"Boss? There is a call for you," a man called out from the other side of the heavy oak.

Muttering an expletive under his breath, Doyle straightened his clothes. "This isn't over," he told Elizabeth in a deadly tone. "You're going to pay for that remark." He fastened his belt. "I'll be back to finish what you started."

He pushed Elizabeth into the chair and bound her ankles to the metal legs. "Need to make sure you don't try to make an escape." Finishing the knot, he stood up. "I have to take this call; it might be about Emily. Now stay there like a good girl, _a thaisce._"

"I'm not your 'good girl' and I'm not your treasure," Elizabeth spat angrily.

"You're whatever I want you to be. And when I'm done with you, you'll be dead. Along with your whore of a daughter." Doyle leaned in close to Elizabeth. His hot breath fanned her cheek and filled her nostrils.

Elizabeth pulled back and blew a wad of spit directly into Ian Doyle's eye. "Go to hell!"

Doyle pulled back in shock. Red anger filled his mind and sent an urge to wrap his hands around the woman's throat and choke the life out of her. But first things first - he needed to get Emily Prentiss and her lover and make them pay…after he got the location of his son out of her. Then he would eliminate her. And then may God have mercy on the Ambassador's soul.

Wiping the mucus and saliva from his face, Doyle smiled down at the woman. "You first."

"Boss?" the voice called out.

"I'm on my way!" Doyle shouted back. "I'll be back."

Elizabeth leveled the same gaze she had given one of the most despised third world dictators during a UN meeting many years earlier. Full of ice and contempt, there was defiance in her brown orbs that dared him.

"What? No witty words? No snappy comebacks?" Doyle caressed her cheek. "Think about it before I get back. I want to hear what you come up with."

He stomped out of the room and slammed the door.

Elizabeth stared at the one thing between her and freedom.

But this time she didn't cry. Anger had replaced her tears. And she was going to get out of that room if it was the last thing she ever did.

Frantically, her fingers started working on the ropes around her wrists.


	17. Chapter 17

_Two words: Cliff-hanger._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Aaron Hotchner answered the phone on his desk on the first ring.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch? It's Reid."

"Are you still at the hospital?"

"Yes. What's wrong?" Reid asked. He could hear the tension in the Unit Chief's voice.

"We located Anderson. He's in Colorado."

Reid paused. His tired brain tried to grasp the meaning. "Colorado? My mother is in Colorado Springs." He swallowed nervously.

"I need you to move now."

"I can't," Reid argued.

"That's an order. There is another agent coming in to relieve you, and JJ has already made the arrangements for you to fly out in a couple of hours."

Reid shook his head. "I can't," he repeated. "I'm staying here. Ashley's mother is expecting me to guard her daughter and if I leave, she's….Hotch, she blames us for what happened to Ashley."

"Anderson is going after your mother."

Reid pushed down the sadness and fear. "I don't think so. I've studied him. It would be out of his plan to destroy you by going after my mother."

"He was behind the bombing that killed Director Strauss."

"She was a link to you," Reid stated simply. "My mother has no ties to you but thru me. Killing her would be for fun. That's not in his play book."

"If he's not in Colorado, where is he heading?" Hotch asked.

"If I had to think like him, he's on his way here."

"Really?"

Reid looked around the waiting room. Something in the air was making his skin crawl and making him uneasy. "Going out to Colorado is supposed to make us look the other way while he makes his move."

"And you think he's going out there to finish the job?" Hotch hesitated.

"Where else would he be heading?"

"If that's true, you're going to need back up. I can get other agents out there immediately."

"There's one outside Ashley's door. And I know that his relief is due at zero six hundred. When do you think we can get more?"

"I'll make the calls right after we hang up," Hotch promised. "Until then, do you think you can move her?"

"Ummm…" Reid racked his brain. "I'm not sure if she can be moved at this point."

"What's her status?"

"She's stable," Reid answered matter of fact.

"So she can be moved?"

"I don't think so. Brain stem injuries are touchy enough without adding stress. Any jarring movement could kill her."

"We have to get her out of there before Anderson makes his move!" Hotch demanded.

"I can talk to her doctors and request that we move her, but Hotch, I'm not a physician…"

"You do have a medical degree…"

"I'll plead her case and see what we can do. You'll have to make sure that there is a medical chopper waiting for us if we get the go ahead."

"Just let me know when."

"Have you talked to my mom?" Reid asked carefully.

"I talked to the doctor on duty. There are two undercover agents in the room beside her," Hotch said. "And security has been advised to look at every ID that enters at the gate."

"I still don't think he's going to show up there."

"We need to keep ahead of him."

Reid nodded. "Thanks Hotch."

"Call me in one hour."

"I will. Have you heard from Emily and Rossi?"

"No. Last word that JJ received had them outside of London."

"Any word on the Ambassador?"

"No. We know that Doyle has her, but we're not sure where."

"If anyone can find her, Emily will."

"I know. Call me in an hour," Hotch reminded his agent and friend.

"Okay." Reid hit "end" on his phone and slipped it into his pocket.

Checking his watch, he debated getting a cup of coffee. But that feeling was still with him. The coffee could wait until he checked on Ashley. Once he assured himself that she was okay, he could slip out and take a break.

Creeping down the hallway, his eyes darted into every room he passed as though he were profiling any little thing that could be out of place. Coast clear, he made his way to the Nurses' Station. A brief hello and he was heading back toward Ashley's room.

As he approached the room, alarm bells went off in his head. The chair outside the room was empty. Where was Agent Clyde?

Suddenly on high alert, his fingers unsnapped the strap over his revolver. Grasping the weapon, he tip toed to the edge of the door way.

Peering inside, his eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light. Standing over Ashley's bed, Anderson held a gun to the unconscious woman's head.

As Anderson's finger curled around the trigger, the sound of a hammer being pulled back sounded like thunder.

"Put the weapon down and step away from the bed," Reid ordered coldly.

A wry smile broke across Anderson's face. "Hello, Agent Reid," he greeted just as coldly. "I see you made it back sooner than I expected."

"Put the gun down and step away from the bed," Reid repeated. "I'm not going to tell you again."

Anderson's hand never wavered despite the muzzle of a revolver near his head. "Or what? You're going to shoot me?"

"If I have to." Reid remained fixed on his target.

"That's perhaps the scariest thing I've heard in a long time," Anderson quipped. "You couldn't hit the broadside of a barn."

"I do well enough when I have to."

"Well, since you are pointing at my head, I am sure that you'll probably take out my knee. I'll still be able to take out this bitch and you, too."

"Would you like to bet on it?" Reid questioned.

Anderson lowered his gun and turned to face the young doctor he had once admired.

"Okay, you got me."

"Put the gun on the floor and then turn around," Reid ordered. His heart was beating frantically as he tried to remember everything he had learned at the Academy. He had been part of take downs and he had put more than his share of hand cuffs on UNSUBs, but he had always done it as a team. Now he was on his own and facing an agent who knew the routine.

_Keep your cool, Spencer. What would Morgan do? What would Rossi do? Think like them. Think like Hotch._

"I'm not going to tell you again; put the gun on the floor and turn around." Reid's free hand reached behind his back for the handcuffs.

"I didn't know she meant so much to you," Anderson chided.

"My friends mean a lot to me."

"Enough to risk your life for?"

"My job is to protect the innocent and the one who can't defend themselves."

"And yet, you are willing to lay your life down for Aaron Hotchner," Anderson stated tonelessly.

"Turn around," Reid ordered.

"What has Aaron Hotchner ever done for you but make you look like a fool?" Anderson stalled.

"This isn't about Hotch."

"You think this is about Emily Prentiss?" Anderson asked sarcastically.

"Isn't it?"

Anderson snorted. "Part of it. Doyle is going after Emily Prentiss thru her mother, and so I took that opportunity to go after Aaron Hotchner thru his team."

"So you killed Erin Strauss. Why?"

"You're the profiler," Anderson taunted, "you tell me."

"I want to hear it from you."

"The old 'turn the interrogation around on the suspect' technique. I know that one. I took the class. And I was taught by the best: Agent David Rossi. As were you."

"Then tell me why Hotch."

"I hate him. He's an arrogant bastard who can't keep his life together and destroys everything he's ever touched." Simple and straight to the point.

"And Strauss was 'collateral damage'?"

"No," Anderson admitted. "She was a bitch. Just like Ambassador Prentiss."

"Ambassador Prentiss? How do you know about her?"

"Who do you think gave Doyle her itinerary?"

"So, this is revenge?" Reid asked not surprised by the revelation.

"This is comeuppance," Anderson corrected angrily. "She's going to learn she can't just dismiss people because they aren't in the same class as her. Now she's going to find out how it feels to be part of the forgotten."

"And how does Hotch and the team fit into this? I don't understand," Reid fibbed.

"Maybe he's got you following blindly, but I know who he really is. So did Greenaway."

"Elle made her own choices."

"She was driven to madness by him."

"How do you figure that?"

"He got her shot."

"A mad man shot her."

"And Agent Hotchner blamed me for letting it happen."

"No, he didn't."

"Bullshit!"

"You did what you thought was best at the time. You didn't know that the UNSUB knew how to get to us."

"But he wrote me up," Anderson spat. His hands contracted into fists.

"It was procedure. And it was expunged."

"And Jason Gideon?" Anderson continued his rant as though Reid had not replied.

Reid fought to suppress the pain that always lay just below the surface that was associated with his old mentor. "Once again, Gideon - like Elle - made his own choices. He walked away; no one forced him."

"Hotch got that woman killed. His hand might as well have been on the knife she used to stab herself."

"Hotch didn't do anything wrong; Gideon made the call. I know because I was there."

Anderson gave a short laugh. "I knew you'd stand up for him. Even after all the lies and deception, you still think Aaron Hotchner walks on water. You really are a sheep."

"Turn around, Anderson." _Where was Clyde?_ Reid thought frantically. He could only reason with a mad man for so long, then all hell was going to break loose. He was going to need back up. Fast!

"Hotchner murdered his wife, nearly killed his son, and put his teams' lives in jeopardy by covering up for Emily Prentiss."

"Once again, Haley Hotchner made her own decision to break her WITSEC cover. If anyone put that little boy's life in jeopardy, I'm going to blame his mother…and George Foyet," Reid answered. "As for Emily Prentiss, Hotch and JJ did what they had to do. Right or wrong."

Both men glared at one another in electric filled silence.

"But from what I can see," Reid continued, "if anyone is a sheep, it would be you. Killing Seaver to get back at Hotch and putting the bomb in Erin Strauss's car tells me that you are just begging for attention." Reid studied the mad man. "How much?"

"How much?" Anderson repeated.

"How much did Doyle pay you?"

Anderson gave a bitter laugh. "Think I'll share?"

"I don't want your blood money; I want to know how much it takes to make a person give up their reasoning and common sense. And then turn their back on everything they used to uphold and believe in."

"Trying to 'profile' me, Agent Reid?" Anderson sneered. "I'm not going to fall for it."

"I don't care. I want you to drop the gun, turn around, and put your hands behind your back."

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" Anderson taunted.

"If I have to." Reid kept his aim leveled.

"I don't think you have the balls to pull the trigger. Once again, leave it to Aaron Hotchner to send a boy to do a man's job." Anderson watched the expression cross the young man's face. "If you're waiting for Agent Clyde, I don't think he's coming." He shrugged his indifference. "Seems he's gotten a little…detained in the broom closet."

"What are you saying?" Reid asked as fear crept into his voice.

Anderson's eyes narrowed as he sized up his opponent.

"Who's going to save Agent Seaver after I kill you, Doctor Reid?"

Reid dropped his guard for one second as his brain processed the threat. And Anderson took that moment to make his move.

Letting out a loud roar, he brought the butt end of his gun up and across Reid face.


	18. Chapter 18

_I have nothing I can say that would come close to saying how very sorry I am for leaving this cliff-hanger. I know that you all have waited so patiently and after 3 months, I can finally break the suspense of what happens between Anderson and Reid. It's going to be a fight to the death and only one can win. Reid has a job to do and an oath to uphold, while Anderson has a reward to call his own. Both are determined to win, but who will it be?_

_This chapter is dedicated to everyone who waited so patiently. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._

**Sweet Glow of Mercy**

Stars exploded in Reid's head as pain overwhelmed all five of his senses. Caught unawares, he tried to collect himself but Anderson had already rushed him. His ears barely registered the sound of his gun falling to the floor as he was thrown against the wall. Not much of a fighter, he tried to remember the self defense class required at the academy. What was the first rule? Never let the opponent get the upper hand.

Well, that was too late, so he was going to have to regroup. At least that was his thought before Anderson slammed his head into the door frame. The stinging blood in his eyes blinded him and it was going to end badly if he didn't think of something quick!

_Think Spencer,_ he told himself, _what was that move you did in high school when the bullies tried to string you up the flag pole by your underwear. THINK! _Bracing himself for impact, he brought his head up hard under Anderson's chin. The sound of a crack filled the air and in an instant, Anderson was on the ground moaning in pain.

Reid tried to wipe the blood from his eyes. Blurry eyed and seeing double, he noticed his gun on the floor. All he had to do was get it before Anderson… In an instant he hit the floor hard and felt his bad knee hit the tile. It took everything in him not to scream out in pain. Rolling over on his back, he grabbed his knee.

"Not so fast, Agent Reid," Anderson said as he hurried to crawl past Reid for the gun.

"No you don't," Reid ordered as he threw himself at the man sent to kill him. The man, that if given a chance to finish him off, would complete killing Ashley.

Rolling on the ground, each agent battled for the upper hand as fists flew and each tried to inch their way to the gun that literally held life or death for the winner.

Anderson tried to break loose, but there was something about the scrawny doctor that he had underestimated. He would have never guessed that the 90 pound weakling was actually stronger than he looked. Yeah, he thought bitterly, Spencer Reid might be scrappy, but he couldn't last long - at least not against the determination that he was bringing to the table. He had a job to complete and a million dollars to collect once he finished off two of Aaron Hotchner's team. And then there was the extra million for taking out Aaron Hotchner. Oh, it was going to be sweet!

But first he had to get rid of Spencer Reid and the Seaver bitch. If only he could reach for the gun…. Pushing a hand against Reid's throat, Anderson stretched with everything he had to get the gun. Twice his fingers brushed against the grip. Pushing harder, he heard the choking sound and knew he had almost won. Now for the gun….yes! He shouted to himself as his hand grabbed hold of the cold steel.

Leveling the barrel between Reid's eyes, he didn't try to hide the jubilant smile of victory as he watched the fear in Reid's dark brown eyes. Keeping his grip on Reid's throat, Anderson paused to relish in getting the upper hand.

"So, Agent Reid, it looks as though I win," Anderson gloated. "You thought you were so smart and could win against me. But you forget that I've been watching you for six years. I know your every move. I know how you think. I also know that you've been running away every weekend to that cabin of David Rossi's."

He watched as Reid fought for breath. A part of him had to admit that he was going to miss the slightly irritating, clueless, walking/talking encyclopedia.

"Tell me, Agent Reid, what were you doing out in that cabin? Hiding? Drowning your sorrows? Beating yourself up over your guilty conscience?" he taunted. "I think you went out there to hide your drug habit. But you don't have to worry about that any more. You can take that secret to the grave."

Reid struggled to breath free. He needed oxygen. He needed to get his gun. Twice more he thrashed. Where was Clyde and his relief?

"Clyde," Reid croaked out a gasp.

"Is dead," Anderson finished. "I hate to inform you. It's so sad - I mean when you think about it. No team to come in and rescue you. No Aaron Hotchner or Derek Morgan to break down the door with guns blazing. It seems that they left you high and dry. And you call these people your friends?" He clicked his tongue.

Pressing the barrel of the gun to Reid's head, the laughter faded as cold determination filled his eyes.

"You've spent your whole time being in the BAU following Aaron Hotchner around like a puppy dog scrounging for scraps." Anderson cocked his head in thought. "So tell me, since I'm in control and you are about to find out if there is anything out there on the other side: what exactly have you learned from Aaron Hotchner?" His finger paused on the trigger.

In an instant, Reid brought his knee up sharply and into Anderson's buttocks throwing him off balance. With a yelp, the agent fell face forward onto the hard floor. His gun clattered and slid away.

Gasping for breath, Reid tried to catch his breath as he rolled to his knees. Black dots danced then faded as oxygen hit his lungs. Reaching down he slid his hand knowingly under the cuff of his slacks for the small calibre weapon. At the same moment, Anderson touched the gun.

"Put it down, Anderson," Reid ordered.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" Anderson groaned. His hand closed around the grip. "I don't think you're that good," he gasped and turned on his back and pointed his gun, "Agent…" He never got to finish as the impact of a bullet hit his torso. Thrown back, he felt his chest burn and the sharp pain of his head hitting the floor.

The sound of a gun going off filled the small space as the stench of gun powder burned Reid's nose. He watched as Anderson was thrown back. Pushing himself to his feet, he kicked the gun away.

"By the way, asshole, it's _Doctor _Reid," he stated angrily. Keeping his gun on Anderson, Reid tried to keep his balance as he hit the buzzer for help. In the blink of an eye, the room was filled with nurses and attendants.

"I shot him," Reid gasped. "Get him to the OR; he has information…" He tried to speak but the words evaded him. The ones he could form came out slurred.

"Agent Reid," a nurse called out as she tried to balance his weight against her slight frame. "I need a stretcher!" she shouted.

"Help me get this guy into the OR," a male voice ordered. "I have a GSW to the chest. He's losing a lot of blood. Get me O+ ready!"

"He's a B-," Reid automatically replied as his memory recalled vital information about his nemesis.

All eyes looked at the man who was leaning against the nurse. "You heard him! Get B- ready! STAT!" Quickly Anderson was rushed out of the small room.

"How is Ashley?" Reid asked wearily. The room was starting to spin and he felt nauseous but he had to know about Ashley.

"She's fine. She's fine," the nurse soothed. "I need you to stay with me, Agent Reid." She slapped his face lightly. "How did you know his blood type?"

"It's Doctor." Then Spencer Reid closed his eyes and passed out.


End file.
